


Hollow

by briaeveridian



Series: Modern AUs [8]
Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Ben POV, Depression, Emotional Baggage, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, HEA, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Infertility, Miscarriage, Modern AU, Rey POV, Star Wars Modern AU, Suicidal Thoughts, all aboard the pain train, and how to heal, but it's going to take time, but no infidelity occurs, primary inspiration: buildings by regina spektor, secondary inspiration: the affair, some language, they eventually figure out how to support each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-30
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 11:47:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 31,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29028192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briaeveridian/pseuds/briaeveridian
Summary: After a series of devastating losses, Rey and Ben find themselves slowly coming undone. Their grief manifests differently, both harmful to themselves in ways they do not dare acknowledge. Over time, their life changes shape until they are confronted with a choice, one that can lead to healing together or apart.
Relationships: Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Series: Modern AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1918042
Comments: 33
Kudos: 38





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please notice the tags. I've never written a story like this and it is my goal to treat the subject matter with respect and empathy.

The city unrolls before him, devoid of life and motionless. Nighttime shadows cast themselves long and sinewy, each one rounded in a concave manner that reminds Ben of an eclipse overtaking the moon. By now, the dark feels so replete that its presence becomes a taunt. Ben just wants to fucking sleep.

He winds through the streets, mind purposefully blank. Every stoplight seems to turn red at his approach. Nonetheless, he breaks diligently. He doesn’t have the energy to decipher if its about respecting the law or delaying the inevitable discomfort of what his destination holds. 

Several moments pass before the phone announces his arrival. Coming to a stop, he tilts his head to assess the building. It’s a regular brick structure, like all the other apartments in the area. There is a dilapidated facade and sequence of windows, mostly unlit. 

He realizes he has no idea who lives here, or how Rey knows this person, if she does at all. It’s an unpleasant new awareness. _Why didn’t I ask who this friend is? How she heard about this party?_ He almost berates himself further but his exhaustion sends a reminder that _it’s simply not worth it right now_.

Ben squints at the street in an attempt to find a parking place. There aren’t any in the vicinity, which shouldn’t surprise him. It does however trigger a spike of irritation, one that only drains him further. Morosely, he circles the block, eventually locating an empty spot within a couple hundred yards.

The car comes to a halt and he pulls out the key. Though he doesn’t bother zipping up his coat, he does tug on a beanie, more to cover up his unwashed hair than keep him warm. Rey has always told him he runs hot. The statement used to come with a mischievous wink. But these little moments have become painfully infrequent. It’s hard to admit how much he misses them.

He approaches the building swiftly, suddenly impatient. The door stays shut when he pulls on it. He groans. _Of course there is a lock on the building. What if no one lets me in?_ Hesitating, he bounces uncertainly on his heels in front of the door until he concludes there is only one option.

Pressing the intercom, Ben attempts to make his voice loud and clear. “Um, hello? I’m here to pick up my wife… There’s no response for what feels like an eternity. Throwing his head back in frustration, he lets his eyes track the smeared grey clouds traipsing across the sky. They reflect the dull, mottled lights of the city.

He tries the intercom again. “Can someone let me up? I need to bring my wife home.”

Silence for a beat, then a muffled series of sounds come through the speaker, startling him, and the door clicks. Ben rips it open and rushes into the building. _One step closer to you, Rey. I’m coming._

The stairs wind through the cold, inert apartment building. A yellowish-light permeates the space, basking the floors, walls, and steps in a queasy glow. Ben moves his body up the stairs, an effort both intentional and taxing. For a split second, he wishes he could be anywhere other than here. Then an image of a beleaguered Rey materializes and he presses on.

Ben hears the party as soon as he steps onto the third floor. A rhythmic bass and high-pitched wailing he thinks probably counts as music these days hits him. Its intensity inhabits the space in a disconcerting manner, like something that doesn’t belong. He feels an unfamiliar gratitude for their own building and neighbors, who keep to themselves and make little noise.

With each step, the music grows louder. The rhythm drills into him, unwanted and obstinate. Already his head warns of an oncoming headache, sticky pain that will be difficult to dispel. Luckily, he remembered to pick up medicine for that.

He yawns viciously as he approaches apartment 3C. Rubbing his eyes, Ben blinks rapidly. There is no mistaking that this is the source of the commotion. Still, checks his phone for the address Rey sent him before she left. 

Immediately he regrets the hesitation. In the wake of indecision, anxiety attacks in fervent waves, each one stronger than the last. The sense of dread makes him sway in place. He places a steadying hand on the doorframe, closes his eyes, and touches chin to chest.

Belatedly, he reminds himself to take a deep breath, which doesn’t do much. _There are going to be too many people in there. And I won’t be able to find her._ His apprehension doubles down on itself, ricocheting and expanding until his hands feel clammy. Unconsciously he works his jaw, trying to release pent-up frustration, helplessness, _grief._

Seconds tumble by in unabashed succession. Then, without meaning to he knocks on the door, knowing at once it wasn’t loud enough. He grits his teeth, wraps his fingers around the doorknob and turns it, bracing for the onslaught of people and noise. It’s precisely the kind of thing he usually avoids, and yet Rey seeks it out. He understands, of course. They have different ways of coping. _Or avoiding._

The apartment is tiny but no one seems to notice. Dozens of people compress themselves to fit between the faded walls. Shelves and an entertainment center take up the east wall, a hallway disappears on the far side. The popcorn ceiling presses too close for comfort. 

He takes in the scene wearily. Arms are up at various angles, flailing and twisting out-of-sync. It looks sweaty and oppressive, though they all appear to be enjoying themselves. 

Ben stares for a moment at the undulating mass. It’s oddly grotesque, transfixing. He wonders where Rey could be in the roiling chaos, if she is existing inside the disarray or is peripheral to it. Ben wants the latter. Then an intrusive thought catches him off-guard.

_Out of everywhere in the world, with me at home, she chooses this place?_

He’ll never fully understand her, he realizes, and not for the first time. There was a time he swore he did, felt it in his bones with such gratitude and pride. But that was _before_. Now, after what happened, _what kept happening_ , she became something viscous, something clouded. An unknowable thing.

 _Will she forgive me for this inadequacy? For my tremendous failure? Will she know how much I regret everything that has happened?_

It’s no surprise, of course.

Ben has never been enough for anyone. It took him a while to figure that out, well into his teens in fact. The memory it erodes him, for over fifteen years repeating over and over and slowly tearing him apart gradually.

He swallows. Balls his fists. The crowd continues its writhing as his eyes grow unfocused.

It was just before his birthday. He’d picked a fight with his parents to get some rise out of them, to figure out if they _cared_ at all. There had been a constant resident in his mind, one that spoke of his failures, his inherently disappointing nature. By then, he desperately needed to know that voice was wrong, that he was _wanted_ , not a burden. He yelled at them, intending to provoke wrath or compassion or anything. It was a mistake. Their response caused a slicing pain that raced to his very core; while he was red in the face, puffed up and threatening departure from their home, their lives, all he saw was a brief relief crossing their faces, a sense of _finally, good riddance_ that cracked his heart in a nearly audible way. He moved out the next day and they didn’t even say goodbye. 

Ben was sixteen.

It took longer than he thought possible to build a life for himself. The narrative he came up with once he left home focused on the importance of self-reliance, composure. _Freedom._ From the expectations of others, from the burden of disappointment. 

But under the layers of this carefully constructed carapace, the truth kept living, no matter how hard he tried to ignore it. To _kill_ it. The past kept weighing on him, dogged and pernicious.

After all these years, he still wonders why she picked him, claimed to want _him_ , of all people. It confused him from the start and never stopped. But in choosing him, that little buried truth grew until it broke through the fabricated shell, letting in a shred of light for the first, breathless time. He felt undeserving of that kind of expansive acceptance.

Rey’s adoration was the most vibrant thing in his life. Even now, as tarnished as she believes herself to be, and how little she wants to do with the world, he marvels at her. He convinces himself that he will fix everything that has gone wrong through sheer will and focus.

But his fear that he will fail her persists. This suspicion underlies every action, every word he says to her. It debilitates him if he lingers on the thought too long. So he doesn’t.

Instead, he focuses on the single thing he knows for sure; that at the very least, he can give her the space she needs. That’s the gift he can offer. _Time. To process. To heal._ And hopefully she will come back to him if he’s patient enough. 

Someone in the party shrieks, bringing him back to the uncomfortable, sensory-overload of the present. Uncertain where to start, Ben looks at his phone again. There are no notifications, only the unpleasant news that it’s three am. Rey is supposed to be at work at nine, which she reminded him of before going out. This was accompanied by her usual disconcerted plea.

_“If I’m not home by midnight, please come get me. I have to go to work tomorrow.” She can’t look at him while she says it but he notes her expression nonetheless. It reminds him of a child purposefully avoiding the truth. “I’ll be home before then. But if I’m not… You’ll come pick me up, right?”_

_Always_ , Ben thinks. _I will always be there. How can you still question that, after all we have been through?_

With resignation and a vague revulsion, he pushes farther into the crowd.

“Rey!” Ben calls over the cacophony. His voice doesn’t travel far. Working his jaw, he turns sideways to elbow his way through. Everyone is far too drunk to notice him, even though he takes up an excessive amount of space. It’s a rare experience, not feeling like his presence is causing problems, whether physically or emotionally. _There’s an irony here but I’m too sober to find it humorous._

The music changes in a way Ben can notice but not easily describe. Eventually, despite the newly raucous dancing, he makes it across the living room. He escapes through the first doorway on the right, which turns out to be the kitchen. It’s empty and he sighs. Then he exits and keeps looking. 

Ben tries a couple of other rooms, filled with people having sex or doing drugs or who knows what else. He doesn’t linger long enough to figure it out exactly, once he establishes that none of the heads match Rey’s. _What would I do if Rey were one of these people?_ It’s a masochistic hypothetical that he dismisses at once.

He comes upon the last door and pauses. With an ear to the wood, he listens for an occupant. There’s a kind of quiet sniffling sound. He tries the bathroom door. Unlocked. Barging in on someone vomiting on the floor is the last thing he wants to do currently. But there’s nowhere else she could be. _Unless she isn’t in the apartment…_ There’s a familiar acidic pang in his chest, one of being left behind, forgotten, unneeded.

He shakes his head, partially shields his eyes, and goes through the door. “Rey?” he says softly, hoping to hear confirmation before looking. A soft groan comes from the corner. Ben recognizes her voice and drops his hand. He crosses the small space in a single step.

Her shoulders are curved in. She looks like a leaf after a rainstorm, weighed down. Sodden and saturated. 

“Rey,” he breathes, crouching beside her and laying a hand on her back. She tilts toward his voice, knees raised to her chin and lids lowered. Her makeup is smeared.

“Mmm?” Her eyes flutter, a valiant effort against the alcohol and fatigue. Ben brings a hand to her cheek.

“We need to get you home. Can you stand?” He has seen her like this countless times before. In their own apartment, various clubs, even strangers’ homes. It never gets easier.

Her head lolls a bit in reply. 

“Are you falling asleep? Should I… carry you?” Ben glances at the door, gauging how difficult it would be to walk through the party that still thumps with too much life. He glances back at her, noting her nonresponse. The next decision is quick and easy.

Slipping one arm under her legs and wrapping one around her waist, Ben hefts her up without straining. The movement makes her squeak in protest. Then his warmth relaxes her and she collapses, face coming to rest on his chest. A sigh escapes her, muffled and distant, and Ben feels himself exhale. _At least she still feels safe in my arms._

He manages to open the door, which he expertly left ajar, toe nudging it until they can pass through the gap. Rey’s fingers instinctively clutch at his shirt and he once more resolves to keep the world at bay, in all its barbed and vicious indifference. _No matter what, Rey. We’ll get through this. I’ll help you._

Rey needs him, which is more important than anything else. Even his own hollowed-out existence of the past two years. As long as he focuses on her, he won’t dismantle entirely, won’t fall into the unfathomable darkness that threatens to burst forth. To keep it at bay he must ignore it, focus on her, and work, and everything else. But not what swirls inside him.

She orients Ben, tethers him. If he can just help her heal, he’s sure his own wounds will stitch back together on their own. Once she is back to herself, their happiness will return too. For she has always brought so much _light_.

He pauses at the edge of the crowd then makes a demand that surprises even him. “Move!” he roars, making Rey and everyone else in the vicinity jump. She sleeps on, despite the disturbance as the others groggily scrunch together to let them pass. They’re all laughably drunk. He’s embarrassed for them.

Ben uses almost anything to distract himself, but never alcohol. He doesn’t like what it does to people. To his _wife._ The woman who asked him out in an art museum in front of a Chuck Close portrait, all bright squares of details and character. Her tenacity bent his gravity to hers and without any resistance, his new orbit began.

By the time he’s at the door several more minutes have sifted away. He knew at the start of the night she wouldn’t make it to work. The most he can hope is that they both get sufficient sleep to survive the next day. 

For once, his timing couldn’t be better; a woman in front of him is opening the door of the apartment. She notices him and smiles drunkenly, holding it open with a sloppy flourish. With a quick nod he thanks her then rushes ahead, unwilling to make small-talk at such an hour. _Unwilling to make small talk ever is probably the more accurate statement._

Without further hindrance, he descends the stairs with Rey held close. The quiet of the hall is a relief, allowing him to detect her snores, a soft and hazy sound that makes his heart clench. Despite everything, he finds ways to _love her more_. It’s an infinite and bewildering ability. He hopes it never wanes.

Ben shoves the door of the building open, the late winter wind crisping the air. He welcomes it compared to the heat of the party. But Rey shivers in his arms and he grasps her tighter.

He sprints to the parked car, shifting his weight to his left arm to unlock the door with minimal disruption to Rey. Knowing how this door has a tendency to get stuck due to the cold, he yanks it open with too much force and she jostles in his arms. He grimaces in frustration when her eyes crack partially.

“Ben? Is that you?”

“Yes, my love. I’m bringing you home.”

She smiles slightly and Ben reluctantly deposits her in the back. She protests leaving his arms for a moment, then sinks into the cushion of blankets he brought. _It’s not legal but I just don’t care at this point._

Swallowing painfully he leaves a kiss on her forehead. Then he layers a blanket on top of her and rushes around the car to the driver’s seat. He turns the car on and cranks up the heat. 

Rey makes an appreciative sound. “Home sounds so good right now.” He glances at her through the rearview window.

“I couldn’t agree more. We’ll be there soon. Sleep now.”

She nods in a dazed way, though he knows she’s too asleep to fully comprehend his statement.

Then she speaks again. “Thank you.” It’s muffled by the blankets. Ben blinks rapidly and turns his eyes to the street.

Moments later he hears her retching. He doesn’t mind in the slightest. As he drives through the uninhabited streets, he thinks, _Another task to focus on. Another chance to be useful._

The lights turn green for him the whole way home.


	2. Chapter 2

The sunlight leaking through the curtains infiltrates her lids all at once. She groans. More than warmth or illumination, it causes a weighted pressure that descends ferociously. Her head throbs in response, dull and insistent.

Rey feels the sheets and knows she, at the very least, is in her bed at home. She moves a heavy arm to the other side and finds it empty and cold. Ben must have left for work hours ago, which is unsurprising but no less impressive. Clearly, he was up late as well, retrieving her from some random place while she was too intoxicated to know the difference. 

The guilty thought triggers a sharp sting of tears but she keeps her eyes shut tight. _My only defense. Shut it out. Shut it away._

Rey turns over in bed and almost heaves from the motion. She senses how her body holds onto its former state of intoxication, too stubborn to let such a quantity of alcohol ingested leave too soon. Then a familiar roiling haze expands in her mind, a series of warped understandings she clings to. _Ben is so kind. Generous. Reliable. And I’m a goddamn mess. He deserves more than I could ever give him._

She swallows the feeling, along with the sharp and acrid grief that never strays far. It stitches itself to her days like a shadow. More often than not, this specific melancholy offers comfort, something recognizable. After all, her life has been rife with loss and hardship. Nestling into the confines of sorrow can offer a semblance of meaning, however discolored and tangled it may be.

_Until I met him._

Ben changed everything. The instant she saw him, something awoke within her; a vital, remarkable eagerness for life and connection. It felt robust and thorough. She thought that would last forever. 

Rey grabs a pillow and lays it gruffly over her face. The oblivion of sleep beckons again, dragging her into its soft, unfocused clutches. It takes only a moment of internal conflict before she grunts, kicks the blanket off her feet, and attempts to sit-up. The room itself swoops horizontally and her hands jerk to grasp the bed. Closing her eyes, Rey imagines Ben beside her, making the bed curve slightly. Her head tilts, longing to rest on his bracing shoulder.

 _“Steady. Deep breaths.”_ She hears his voice, low and calming. When the world is a torrent of anguish, Ben’s presence soothes. He could pull out the wrinkles effortlessly, with a look of his eyes or a gentle touch. It was like magic or a superhuman ability she had never encountered before. But over the past years, it started to lose its power. Or she slowly became less open to him, reverting back to her life-long tendency of erecting walls and keeping people away.

Rey grits her teeth in self-loathing, disgusted that she can treat him like she’s treated everyone else who came before. _Has he not been here for you as you’ve destructed? Years of using him, taking him for granted, and you have the audacity to claim it’s his fault you’re the way you are?_

She knows this train of thought intimately. There are deep trenches in her brain, ones first dug as a young child. _It’s hard to course-correct when the ditch swallows you up._ Rey rubs her face.

There were days when pulling herself out wasn’t so hard. If the sun was bright, if her foster parents weren’t in bad moods, if her foster siblings hadn’t brought the strangely contagious violence home from school, Rey was okay. She could find color and presence, could hold onto it for the rest of the day. 

Once she left that house, Rey no longer experienced those rare and beautiful days. Having to work long hours to afford an apartment, longing for some normalcy like school and friends, homework and movie nights, left her perpetually spent. Gradually, she gave up on what it felt like to smile from the inside out. And that was one of the most smothering of losses.

 _Ben helped me see. Ben made me taste and feel and crave things. He gave my life bearings, purpose, affirmation. And for that, I have to be more than I am, more than I have ever been._

Rey burrows her fingers into the blankets. She sees his face, each beauty mark and freckle drawing her attention simultaneously. Ben was always hard to witness in his entirety because there is _so much of him,_ each detail uniquely enthralling and worthy of adoration. 

_I will make sure he knows how desperately I love him. How he changed my life in fundamental and precious ways. I will make sure he knows, despite the strain my love entails._

With a heavy, vertigo-inducing sigh, Rey slips out of bed and heads straight to the medicine cabinet. But she comes up short, remembering how low the supply of Ibuprofin was when last she used them. To make sure, she pops the mirror-door open (pointedly ignoring her reflection), and relief floods her. _Ben bought more. Of course he did._ She tugs the bottle down with cold fingers and pours out four round tablets.

Making her way into the kitchen, she observes Ben’s additional acts of thoughtfulness. A breakfast plate sits in the microwave, piled with fluffy eggs and parmesan, which is her favorite style, and cubed potatoes with garlic and salt. Below the appliance sits a cup of coffee, ready to be re-heated. 

She glances at the counter where several slices of grapefruit rest, a serrated spoon sticking vertically from the fruit. The set of fancy spoons were an early wedding gift from his parents, though they weren’t invited to the ceremony or reception. When they received the small, ornately decorated gift box, Ben balked, threatened to get rid of whatever lay inside. Rey, sensing something in him he wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ voice, insisted she loved grapefruit and thus, they had to keep the utensils. It was obvious that Ben saw through her fib but didn’t press the issue. Instead, he kept bringing the vibrant jeweled fruit home. She couldn’t tell if he was teasing her or offering a dare.

Luckily, the citrus eventually grew on her.

Her lips tug with the reminiscence of a smile. She works them for a moment, then glances at a piece of paper on the counter. It’s adorned with Ben’s neat cursive. She can’t help it; a smile blooms.

Early on she realized his deep reluctance to use modern technology and immediately loved this about him. _“Isn’t a hand-written note nicer than your phone making that awful noise our brains are now addicted to and vibrating in your pocket?”_ He’d said it with a flash of passion, one she rarely sees now. One she misses.

Her eyes turn watery for a second and she scrunches her fingers inward. The action reminds her of the pills in her palm, so she fills a glass with water, chucks the pills into her mouth, and downs the whole eight ounces. This habit she picked up from Ben. _“Water before coffee,”_ he always told her. It’s a good bit of advice.

Finally, her eyes fall on the note:  
“My dearest Rey, I let your boss know you are feeling ill. She didn’t sound happy but I think she’ll get over it. Rest well today and I will see you at 5:30. Ever yours, Ben.”

The black ink looks rounded and serene and insistent. He should know better than to expect her to _rest_ all day. Rey doesn’t _rest_ unless forced to. At least, that’s how she used to be. Once more, she feels an emotional yank, one that makes her lurch. _Past tense signifies something lost. A truth I can’t claim anymore._

Shaking her head, she makes a mental list for the day. _Laundry, vacuum, clean the bathroom._ It’s sufficiently busy and will allow her to keep the melancholy thoughts properly in their cage. She blinks twice, swallows, then hits the microwave button.

Breakfast and coffee do wonders for her energy and mood. The hangover becomes less noxious and the pills lessen her headache. It took a while for Rey to become accustomed to having such basic examples of modern medicine readily available. Her foster parents were very vocal about not keeping any pharmaceuticals in the house. _“Simple pains, headaches and cramps, those make your body stronger. Learn to deal with the pain. You’ll never regret being strong, Rey. Trust me.”_ Her foster mother’s voice tended to sound rough and weathered, like bark on an old gnarled tree. 

When she first mentioned this quirk of her childhood to Ben, he was aghast, arguing that this was one of the ways her foster parents were abusive. But Rey she didn’t dwell on that. She was simply grateful to have had a roof over her head when countless others weren’t so lucky. 

_Orphans can’t be choosers._

Her phone buzzes suddenly. Rey startles, grabs it, and reluctantly looks at the screen. On top of a wedding picture of her and Ben is a text from her boss and she, much like Ben warned, is not happy. Without reading it she dismisses the notification, unable to acknowledge what harm her decision to stay up late has caused. 

Rey scrolls through Spotify until she comes upon the Top Hits playlist. She needs _loud_ and _upbeat,_ something to keep her energy going all day. They can’t afford the no-ad version but she prefers it this way. Though she has accepted how useful medicine is, the vestigates of her foster parents’ weird philosophy has remained, twisted and changed over time. Listening to all the things being advertised that they cannot afford makes her feel stronger. 

Of course, they probably could afford more things. But that would go against all the commitments Ben made to himself when he left home. This makes sense to her and she supports the decision for autonomy and all the responsibilities that come with it. However, a deep, secret part of her wishes that after everything she has gone through, _they_ have gone through, something about their lives could be even a tiny bit easier. 

_Doesn’t money make things easier?_ It could be naive to think that. Rey wouldn’t know.

She preps the slow cooker, imagining the way Ben will grin when he comes home to pot roast, green beans, and mashed potatoes. She hopes he will pick her up and swing her around. They’ll laugh together, and kiss. _It will be perfect._

Then, she turns up the music loud enough to hear from the other room and gets to work on the chores.  
  


* * *

  
Their apartment is small and full. Ben covers almost every surface with books, all meticulously organized by genre. Any remaining surfaces Rey covers with plants. It creates a cozy space, one rich with presence and texture. The fact that it is cramped bothers Rey very little. The real issue is that, on a daily basis, the space reminds her of their shattering and unmitigated loss.

She does Ben’s laundry first, making sure all of the colors stay separate. Sorting offers a mindless meditation, one that tugs her frayed emotions into a haphazard pattern. She recognizes herself in this pattern, at least a little bit, and she smiles. Then each task snowballs into another and in her dissociated high she manages to accomplish everything on her list without distraction.

It’s late afternoon by the time she finishes the bathroom and everything smells like Pine. The aroma makes her think of the mountains, though Rey has never seen them. Nevertheless, she enjoys thinking that the forested slopes hold their own specific tranquility. An inexorable peace, blanketing quiet. She wants to be wrapped up in this feeling, relaxed and carefree...

The alarm goes off in the kitchen and she jumps, hitting her head on the cabinet next to the sink. She winces, rubbing her fingers over the fast-growing bump, and glances at the culprit: the overflow cabinet, which contains things she does not want to see. Things she should throw away but in doing so, she’s wasting money, _relinquishing all hope._ She gulps.

Her foster mother’s voice slips into her ear and Rey makes a snap decision. _Strengthen myself. Confront reality. Feel the pain._

With shaky fingers she nudges the door open, letting it swing to reveal rejected deodorant sticks, some baking soda, old makeup, and a box labeled “Ovulation and Fertility kits.” Her breath stops mid-inhale as if her lungs have turned solid.

_“I figured it made sense to buy in bulk, considering how much we’ll be trying.” Her eyes glinted at him as she showed him the purchase. Ben squinted from confusion for a split second, then his face broke into a grin bright enough to make her stagger._

Rey slams the door shut and sprints from the bathroom, needing distance and time and _something_ she cannot comprehend. Only then does she hear the alarm again. It’s invading the air with such incessant pitch and tenacity, it’s a wonder she forgot about it at all. She punches it into silence and crumples to the kitchen floor, an extensive sadness permeating her skin and blood and bones. 

Shuddering violently, Rey clutches her knees and cries. Without realizing it, she starts rocking back and forth. Her phone sits out of reach, playing a series of songs that would make her feel worse if she could hear them.

With no sign of a clock nearby, time erodes.

She has no idea how long she has sat on the kitchen floor. When the front door opens, movement and sound bring her back fully. Ben’s hands are on her shoulders in an instant, gentle and concerned. His lips drag across her forehead, somehow conjuring a fresh wail from her stricken chest.

Ben pulls her into his lap without a word. He doesn’t admonish, doesn’t criticize. Rey loosens utterly, flush against him and urgent. He holds her and loves her, stroking her back in patient ellipses. She shuts her eyes until they hurt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I thought--” Her gasping breaths make it difficult to speak. 

Ben pushes her hair from her face, tilting her back to look at her. Hesitantly, she opens them to look at him. 

“There is nothing to apologize for. Nothing. Do you understand?”

He looks wounded. It pains her further. So she nods twice and holds him. She can’t seem to let the words truly sink in but she treasures them nonetheless. _He must know how much I treasure them._

Her grief is a hurdle, an inconvenience to them getting on with their lives. She knows Ben mourned too, though he kept it private. He repeated sweet things she didn’t believe, all meant to lift her up. She tried to hide how much they ended up doing the opposite.

She shakes her head. _I’m the problem. I’ll always be the problem._

Immediately, his warm hands envelop her face and her shaking starts to ease. “Rey, listen, we will get through this. Things will get better, I promise. Think of how things progress, how bodies and hearts heal. We just need time. _You_ need time. And I’m here. Always.” He presses his lips to her temple. 

_This is the moment. I can make him believe he’s enough. That he is worthy and loved. That I can be what he wants me to be._ Forcing her lungs into a slow and measured pace, Rey unclasps her hands and relaxes her shoulders. When she looks at him again, she hopes she has crafted a convincingly positive expression. But it doesn’t last. There’s too much kindness and patience in his auburn eyes.

“I’ll get better. I promise. I’ll find a way to not be a burden. I’ll find a way to not be broken...” Her voice cracks. 

He encircles her instantly, his dark hair falling over them. “You are not a burden,” Ben says harshly. He swallows, pulls his lips between his teeth, tries again. “You are not broken, Rey,” he repeats with a gentler tone. Then, he hugs her hard enough to press air from her lungs. She buries her face in the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the back of his sweater.

When at last Rey motions to stand, feeling infinitesimally more in control, the sun has left the room, their food is cold, and they’re both tired. But Ben rallies without delay. This, just like so many things, doesn’t surprise her. He flips on the kitchen light, which reveals his own tear-stained eyes. She hates that she pretends not to notice.

“Rey, it smells amazing,” he pronounces, bustling about the small space to re-heat the various components of dinner.

Her heart aches in the way a splinter does, left buried for so long that new skin seals it inside. 

Observing him, Rey imagines his life without her, without episodes of sobbing on the floor and ruined dinners. Ben, unaware of her study, gestures for a plate to start serving. 

_He could feel so much happiness._

She provides the plates, then mumbles something about using the bathroom. His heavy eyes fall on her. She meets his gaze and sees the trembling sparkle of his fresh tears.

Rey turns at once, walks to the bathroom, and sits alone on the toilet lid. _I’ll never be what he needs me to be. I’m too selfish, too weak._ She wonders of he’s crying silently over their dinner and burns with regret. _Go to him. It’s your turn to comfort him._ But she just keeps sitting, immobilized.

Ben always said he was his worst enemy. Now, Rey fears she has taken that place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think. And thank you for every kudo, comment, and bookmark. Each one means so much to me <3


	3. Chapter 3

“The system has crashed, Solo.” Armitage Hux gives Ben an exceptionally impatient look from over the cubicle wall. It’s meant to instill a sense of urgency and trepidation. All it does is make Ben want to roll his eyes.

Instead, he takes a steadying breath. “Okay. I’ll take care of it.”

“Now,” Hux amends with brows raised.

For a brief moment, Ben considers ignoring him and finishing up the project that he’s been dealing with all week. But the impulse wanes quickly. _Don’t poke the bear._

“Sure thing,” Ben says through his teeth. He logs off and stands, tempted to use his taller frame to tower over Hux, slumps. _Another bad idea._

“Good. You vouched for this new system, so I expect it to run smoothly.” If anyone can imbue their voice with a sneer, it’s Hux. “I want a full update in my inbox by EOB.”

Once more, Ben wants to demonstrate his sheer disdain for this man, whether with a glare, or a snort, or _something,_ to vocalize how petty he finds Hux. It takes only a split second to think of Rey’s smile and craft an even reply. “There are always bugs when switching over. It’s normal. I’ll get it worked out.”

“See that you do.” The man turns to leave, black jacket pressed neatly and hair slicked back. Ben finds himself marveling at him in a bewildered kind of way. Though utterly insufferable, he can’t help but… envy Hux’s confidence. His sureness of step and action. Ben has little idea how to navigate the world, let alone feel self-assured about it. _Why do such inept individuals manage it and I just can’t?_ He’s ruminated on it for years and still can’t find a satisfying answer.

After a moment, Ben feels someone staring at him and looks over at the neighboring cubicle.

“I know I’ve said it before, but he’s just intimidated by you. That’s what all the haughtiness is about.” Phasma sits adjacent to Ben’s desk and offers a tight smile. She is the only one who has been with _First Order Media Relations_ since the beginning, aside from Hux. Where Hux lacks patience for clients, Phasma oozes charm. They’re a good fit, though Ben cannot understand how she puts up with the man.

“I’ve heard you say that before and I’m still not convinced. And even if it were true… what is there to be intimidated about? I’ve never once tried to compete with him. I’d rather never see him again.” Ben rifles the back of his head, freeing bunches of dark hair that were caught uncomfortable in his collar.

“I know you haven’t. But in Hux’s mind, everyone is gunning for his position. Not that it’s an enviable position, trying to keep this business afloat. He’s just very neurotic. I actually worry about him. Can’t be healthy to live like that.” Phasma looks away thoughtfully.

Ben doesn’t feel so generous. “Yeah, maybe he should get some therapy.” Phasma tilts her head in his direction.

“How are you, Ben? I know it’s been hard--”

“Fine,” he cuts in. His hands automatically start gathering his supplies. “I mean, we’re doing our best. Maybe if this damn job offered better benefits we’d get therapy, too.” Ben tries to make a laughing sound but it comes out stilted, abrasive. He ducks his face and winces.

“I know we don’t know each other that well and I’m sure you have others you can talk to...” 

For a moment, Ben tries to imagine these _others_ he could talk to but no faces materialize. Phasma continues. “But I’m here. If there’s anything I can do…” 

Finally, he looks at her. Phasma’s eyes are curving in a way that says _“You need help. Let someone help you.”_ Ben swallows and nods. 

“I know. Thank you. I’d better get started on this issue before Hux stomps back out here to verbally throttle me.”

Phasma jerks her head in affirmation and turns back to her computer. 

Ben walks mindlessly around the maze of cubicles and into the hallway. The overhead light flickers in a chaotic manner, like some strained attempt at Morse code. Elbowing his way into the maintenance room, Ben runs a hand through his hair and sets to work.

The new software he installed the day before is supposed to make it easier to store, retrieve, and organize client data. So far it has only caused the database to crash. He hooks up his tablet and taps a rapid and orderly code. An error he rarely sees pops up and he curses. This will take more than simply resetting the preferences he added upon installation. _Maybe the hard drive is faulty…_

His mind slips into problem-solving mode, which distracts him from all else. It’s a luxurious place to be; unbothered by reality, faced only with a technical issue he can unwind, if only he takes the time. He sits on the floor and leans his head back, coming up with various solutions. The first few fail. Eventually, he finds a surprisingly elegant fix.

 _Hux shouldn’t have any further complaints but I’m sure he’ll find something._. Glancing at his black Casio watch Ben stands. _Not bad. Already three-thirty._

He opens the door into the hallway at the same moment his phone pings a notification from his pocket. 

Ben isn’t embarrassed about using a small outdated smartphone, one he got reluctantly at Rey’s encouragement. He also hasn’t missed the irony of an IT specialist being anti-modern technology. From a young age, it was clear he had a quick mind for mechanics and how systems work. But a propensity does not necessarily lead to interest. He’d be hard-pressed to describe his _interests._

The text is from Rey and doesn’t say enough. _“Ben I’m so so so sorry.”_ An icy, shooting panic overtakes him and he hits the call button.

“What’s going on?” he demands as soon as the phone connects.

It’s difficult to decipher her words through a deluge of tears. He squints, trying to follow the garbled words. “I got fired. I’m so so sorr--”

“Please, stop apologizing. Just tell me what happened.” He lurches back into the darkened IT room and shuts the door.

“We went to lunch. I only planned to have one drink. But it was so much stronger than I thought it would be...”

Ben tries to hold in his exasperation, fails.

“You went back to the office drunk?” Once the words are out he cringes at his overly sharp tone. _That’s not what Rey needs right now. Be supportive, you ass._

She stops trying to speak and cries harder.

“Rey, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Do you have a ride home?” He’s pacing between the two shelves, both layered with various equipment and materials, some useful, others not. For a moment he thinks about pushing one over, to witness a mess that could rival his life.

“It’s okay. You’re right to be mad. I can’t fucking believe I did this…”

Ben interrupts the berating, keen to find a quick resolution. “Do you need a ride?” he asks again. “Hux might throw a fit if I try to get away.” To his surprise, Ben gets the words out calmly while a torrent of anxiety lashes him.

“I can ask Finn. Maybe he could take off for another hour...” Ben’s shoulders sag.

“No, don’t ask him. We don’t want him to get in trouble, too.” Ben pauses, weighs the options, and makes a choice. “I can be there in twenty minutes. Stay in the lobby, drink water, eat a granola bar.” He rattles off the suggestions distantly, unsure what else to do.

She makes a pressed-lipped sound. “Thank you, Ben.”

“It’ll be alright, Rey. You hate translating anyway.”

Her voice sounds frayed. “But we need the money.”

“We will figure it out. Be there soon. I love you.”

The phone disconnects. He’s not sure if she said it back. His brain, already frazzled, doesn’t linger on it.

He nearly runs back to his desk. “I’ve got to go. Rey needs help. I hope Hux doesn’t shit a brick about it.” Ben stares briefly at Phasma, who knits her brows together.

“Is she alright?”

“Yeah, but she got fired. I need to take her home. I’ll be in early tomorrow to catch up…” He grabs his keys and starts sprinting toward the door.

An upraised voice catches his attention on the way out. He hopes it isn’t Hux. He hopes for a lot of things.

_It will be fine. Everything will be fine._  
  


* * *

  
“I’m sorry, Ben.”

“I know,” he says softly, placing a hand on her knee. She has deflated in the passenger seat, her eyes shut tight. She’s trembling from alcohol, nerves, or embarrassment. Probably all the above. _The second we’re home I’m going to hold her so tight._

“I swear, I didn’t mean to get drunk. I didn’t even _feel drunk._ But Connix has been looking for a reason to fire me. It’s not like translating those instructional manuals takes very much effort. I could do it in my sleep…”

“That’s only because you’re brilliant. Most people can’t juggle jargon in three languages like you do.” He wants the compliment to, if not lift her spirits, then nudge them a bit. It doesn’t.

“All the more reason why I shouldn’t have messed up. I could handle that job. What if I can’t find another one?”

Ben only squeezes her knee. “We will. Don’t worry, Rey.” He wonders if his voice sounds more convincing outside of his head.

Several seconds pass without words. He clears his throat and looks at the buildings they drive between, some brick, some metal. All crafted by more hands he can guess.

“Do you remember when I told you I wanted to be a structural engineer as a kid?”

It’s so random that it startles a short laugh from her. “Yes. I always thought it was cute that you weren’t into anything normal for kids. Just… buildings.” She darts a smile at him.

 _Good. It’s working._ “I just couldn’t understand how they could be so tall, so strong. Not much could bring them down in my naive mind.” For a moment he considers adding _I wished I could be that strong, that resistant to everything around._ “I liked the idea of building something useful, something that could keep people safe.”

Rey extends her arm to touch his and looks at him. He meets her gaze briefly before turning back to the road. “That’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with you, Ben Solo. Your innate empathy and generosity... Not many people have those impulses so young. You were always meant to improve the world.” She sounds sincere and Ben feels a blush rising up his neck.

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

She lets her hand drop, perhaps too exhausted to belabor the point. But he knows she means it. He reaches for her hand and she doesn’t resist.

Her ability to see anything that positive or admirable about him continues to astound him. Eyeing her, he notices a lightness in her demeanor that wasn’t there before. He almost grins with relief.

Then her phone buzzes. She pulls it from her bag. “Oh, it’s Finn, wondering how I’m feeling.” She darkens again.

Ben says nothing, aggravated that no matter what he does, he can’t seem to alleviate her perpetually weighty load. He keeps his eyes forward, waiting for her to stop focusing on her phone. _Goddamn distraction devices._

Rey finishes typing and lets her phone drop. “I know what you’re thinking,” she says quietly.

“What am I thinking?” He signals left, nearing their apartment building.

“That Finn pushed me to it.” Rey fiddles with her fingernails apprehensively.

“I wasn’t thinking that,” he replies honestly.

“It was my idea. He just got engaged, you know. I wanted to celebrate with him.” Ben feels her eyes fall on him. He swallows.

“I should text him congratulations. Did Poe finally propose?” A change of subject feels important.

Rey huffs. “Finn did. Got tired of waiting. Waiting’s no fun.” She looks down at her lap again.

“You’ll never let me forget that delayed proposal, will you?” Ben turns his head to her, attempting a light-hearted expression.

She meets the look and her eyes soften. “Nope. Three years is definitely too long, Ben Solo.”

Looking back at the road, Ben shrugs. “You know I never wanted to get married. The fact that the proposal came at all is a wonder.” He spots a parking place and tucks their used Kia along the curb. “But I will spend the rest of my life telling you how much I regret waiting if it will make you happy,” Ben announces, turning his frame in the driver’s seat to face her.

Her look saddens and his own spirits dip to match.

“There are many things I regret.” Rey suddenly appears submerged, a sorrowful watery sheen overtaking her. He leans forward and wraps his arms around her shoulders.

“Me too. We will get through this. Do you believe me?”

“Yes,” she responds, voice muffled by his sweater. “Is Hux going to be mad that you took off early?”

“He has no right to be. With all these weekends I’ve worked, I have plenty of overtime.” A thought occurs to him and he pulls back. “Do you want to take a bath?”

“Only if you’ll join me.” She paints on a smile that’s only partially forced.

It’s a plea and a consolation wrapped up in one. Ben nods his agreement and then all at once she pulls his face closer, bringing his lips roughly to hers. Her kisses feel clamorous and crucial, like only the connection of their bodies will properly weave her back into reality. Ben holds her, fingers clutching her head and torso, and pours himself into the embrace with fervent care.

Just as unexpectedly, Rey pushes him back into his seat and moves to straddle him. She rolls her hips against him and a fiery thrill takes over. His thoughts fumble about, little phrases of warning and delight chasing one another. He quiets them, feeling how rare and precious such enthusiasm from Rey has become. _I miss this. I miss you._

Caught up in the escalation, Ben pulls her into him, the heightened excitement making his head buzz. Her fingers seek the hem of his sweater then skip along his abdomen. They’re cold and he jumps, laughs, keeps kissing her. He draws her closer still, warmth and need coalescing into a ferocious thing.

It’s only when her phone trills that he remembers where they are.

She ignores it and keeps pressing her open lips to his. But already he’s come back to himself, and all the raw edges and self-awareness of his nature. Cupping her face, he slows their movements and leans his head back. “Let’s go inside. It’s broad daylight,” he adds sheepishly.

The heat leaves her cheeks, draining faster than should be possible. “Of course.” 

And with that, every ounce of enthusiasm leaks from her. He hates himself. _Your wife wants to kiss you and you tell her to stop. You are an incredible fuck up._

His heart constricts. He remembers when sex could be a simple and happy thing, for the two of them alone. And then it became more, that singular way to craft a whole new human together. Now, it’s entangled with loss and traumatic in unexpected ways. He exhales sharply.

Rey is already getting out of the car. In an instant, she has dove inward, tied weights to her ankles so that she can inhabit the darkest part of her emotional sea. And he can’t follow her there, not entirely. No matter how much he wants to.

Ben grits his teeth. A spiraling anger corrupts his torso, tendrils clasping and tighenting until breathing becomes difficult. _When does this get easier? When can we get back to what it was like before?_

The realization that it _can’t_ and _never will_ hits him. Or maybe it was already there, a fully formed understanding that he refused to see. Ben takes the keys from the ignition and follows Rey into their apartment complex.

He climbs the stairs like he usually does, assuming Rey took the elevator. He prefers it this way; it’s comforting. The building surrounds him in its graying hues and unmoving details. He inhales, relishing how the bones of the structure stand firm. Vaguely, he imagines how it would feel to experience a project come to life. To see one’s efforts pay off. To reach a goal.

 _Does one feel pride? Or simply wonder how such a marvelous thing, after so much work, could exist at all?_ His footsteps echo between the walls, reaching deep into him, all sunken tones and deadened rhythm. 

_There is only so far that childhood dreams can take you._  
  


* * *

  
The bath is already running. Ben grabs a beer, not caring that it’s not even five. He hears Rey’s phone playing music, which signals to him he shouldn’t join her yet. _Or at all._

He drops onto the couch and lets his head hit the backrest. Every part of him feels tight, knotted. He shakes his head at what transpired in the car. _The last thing we need right now is to get in trouble for having sex in a car._

Grabbing a nearby book, Ben flips it open out of habit and starts reading a random page. It’s one he hasn’t started yet and it becomes obvious quickly. He sets it back down.

 _I need to eat,_ he registers suddenly and jerks upright. Two elongated steps later and he stands in front of the open fridge, eyes glazed over. _I forgot to go to the grocery. Because I left work early._ Ben slams the door shut and grimaces at the sound. He doubts Rey heard it over the volume of her music. Still, he’s gotten worse at controlling his anger.

That’s another loss. He once prided himself on the level of self-control he developed. It was painstaking work, recognizing his emotions, labeling them, learning to process and release them in ways that weren’t harmful or destructive. He almost laughs at how hard he tried to improve himself, with only so much to show for it. But it was important. It felt like a way to prove himself worthy of taking up space.

_I can be someone my parents would be proud of._

Ben swallows aggressively and levels out his breathing.

Checking the cabinets, he grabs a bag of chips and tears it open. He can’t ever seem to consume enough food. Whether because of his size or the demands that incessantly stressing and worrying and criticizing himself, his body demands more _constantly._ Rey used to find said she found it cute and would show up for dates with her purse stuffed with various snacks, even if their plan was dinner and a movie.

This embarrassed him, though Rey argued it shouldn’t. _“You shouldn’t ever go hungry. Trust me, it’s a terrible state of existence. A hungry body is a miserable body.”_

Ben, through mouthfuls of potato chips, tries to envision her childhood. He wishes he could travel through time, pluck her from that terrible house, and bring her to his home. At least that way, he wouldn’t have been so lonely. And she wouldn’t have been neglected, abused, _unloved._

“Ben?” Her voice cuts through his thoughts and he almost drops the bag. “Are you coming?”

She’s turned off the music. He hears the liquid moving around the bath, deposits the bag on the counter, and tugs his sweater off on the way to her.

_She may not believe it but I could spend my whole life demonstrating how lovable she is._

He just hopes he has the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, this is a depressing story. Is it too depressing? I hope you'll tell me. And I promise, if we make it there, the ending will be uplifting and fluffy!
> 
> I'm into chapter six and also working on a playlist. Would anyone be interested in that?
> 
> THANK YOU for reading. Truly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this is a rough one. Please remember the warning about miscarriage. Descriptions of a stillbirth also feature heavily in this chapter.
> 
> I'm going to start posting more frequently. This story's happy fluff is on the horizon, I promise.

_Okay, focus. I can do this._

Rey sits in front of her secondhand laptop and studies the cursor. It reminds her of an old-fashioned coat stand she saw in cartoons growing up, one made of mahogany or some other fancy wood. There’s a degree of earnestness to the tiny thing, waiting patiently for her to start typing. Thankfully, it doesn’t judge. Doesn’t cast blame for her recent mistakes. 

Regardless, the page remains blank below her name. 

She takes a sip of her tepid coffee, rolls her shoulders, and scrunches her fingers. There’s no reason for her to remake her whole resume since being fired. Just a few updates to the previous one would do the trick; how her role shifted over the year she worked there, how her responsibilities increased. Much easier than having to answer the dreaded future interviewer’s question about the circumstances surrounding her departure. 

But now, when she looks over the dated resume she feels discouraged. It highlights where she wanted to go, what her professional goals used to be; not translating mechanical manuals but creating the equipment itself, working with her hands. She loves how she and Ben shared this interest to tinker and build.

Those goals have become ghostly for both of them. Mere opaque impressions of a previous life. A life she can’t seem to reach for anymore.

Her shoulders sag and she pinches her eyes shut. For a moment she concentrates on the warm, red-hued darkness of her eyelids. She sinks into its soothing shade. A moment later her phone trills, making her jump, and reaches for it in search of a better distraction.

It’s Finn.

Fifteen minutes later knuckles rap on the front door. Rey leaps across the living room, excited to have someone commiserate with her. When she opens it, the first thing she notices is her friend’s sympathy-leaden smile.

“I’m alright,” she announces at once, ushering him through the door.

“Are you? That was a pretty unpleasant experience. I felt like crying _for_ you.” Finn gives her a sturdy hug, eyebrows scrunched in concern. “You can be honest with me, Rey.” He grips her shoulder then moves toward the couch.

She shrugs awkwardly. “Want something to drink? I’ve got an open bottle of wine.” Before he can respond she’s moving around the kitchen, retrieving glasses and tugging on the fridge.

“It’s too early for me,” Finn replies. 

“You’re right. I’ll bring some waters, then.” She fills two glasses and meanders back to the couch.

He watches her kindly the whole way. “Do you want to talk? About anything. I’m here.”

She holds herself back from searching his face. _He means well. Though he has no idea how much there is to say._

“Well, it’s disappointing, of course. We need the money. Ben’s IT job barely brings in anything. His supervisor Hux is a real glutton for mistreatment. I loath the man.” Talking about Ben relaxes her. She borrows his issues, uses them as an extended detour. _And anyway, someone needs to get mad about how Hux treats him. Ben sure doesn’t let himself feel anything on the topic._

Finn leans back, indulging Rey’s diversion. “He does sound a bit like a dick. Has Ben ever thought about changing employers?” It’s casual, supportive. He’s hoping Rey will come around to her own personal concerns in due time.

“Yes but he’s scared of change. I don’t blame him. And, between you and me, I think he believes he deserves the mistreatment. His self-esteem is so low that it borders on masochism.” Rey colors. _I hope that wasn’t an overshare._ She rambles on in a hurry. “Ben has had a hard life. So I don’t blame him for feeling he’s undeserving. No matter what I do though, I can’t convince him otherwise.”

Finn nods solemnly. “And what about you? You once mentioned foster parents. I imagine that was hard, too.”

Rey’s eyes grow wide. “You sound like a therapist,” she says with an uncomfortable laugh.

Now it’s Finn’s turn to redden. “Actually, I went to school to be a social worker. I wanted to help kids. My parents weren’t really around when I was young. It made sense that I should try to help others in the same situation.” He looks at his hands, which lay folded in his lap.

“That’s really wonderful of you. You have a generous heart, Finn.” Rey smiles at him.

Finn’s eyes turn watery. “Thanks. I failed, though. Couldn’t stomach it. Too much abuse, suffering.” His voice trails off for a moment. “Not strong enough. Maybe, once I process my own experiences, I’ll go back to it. Poe thinks it’s my calling, though he doesn’t pressure me. He got me the job at the translation agency. He’s very patient.”

“Yes, Poe is a remarkably kind man. But Finn, you’re not weak. Caring that much doesn’t make you weak.” She tilts her head at him, hoping he’ll believe her. _Would I believe me?_ As if in reply to this thought, Finn levels his gaze at her.

“And neither are you. Whatever has happened in your life, whatever traumatic thing, Rey, you _will_ get through it. Maybe you just need to ask for help.” 

She stiffens, stays silent. The pillow beside her has a tassel that suddenly demands her attention. She methodically twists the soft coils of fabric between her fingers for several seconds.

Finn allows her a moment as he sips at his water. Rey’s grateful. To her surprise, she’s also relieved when he presses her further. 

“Can you talk to Ben about these burdens you’re carrying?”

She sighs. “No. We talked about it for months and months... By now I should have been able to move on from the loss. It’s been _years._ I don’t want to be a broken record. I don’t want to keep rehashing the past. He has moved on mostly, I think. Except that my grief holds him back. I feel cruel to keep him in this life.” Her voice breaks.

“There’s no timeline for healing, no timeframe that demands you move on. And Ben chooses to stay with you, Rey. Because he loves you. That I know. And It’s not rehashing if you’re still grieving.”

She sniffles, taken aback by the quick sequence of comforts. Then she realizes something else. “I don’t actually want to stop grieving. If I do… I’m afraid I’ll forget _him._ ”

“Do you want to tell me about him?” Finn reaches a hand to cover hers. Rey feels herself tremble, detach. Her eyes swiftly fill with tears, building up until there’s no more room on her lids and they spill over.

“He was stillborn. Our baby was stillborn, Finn.” Rey slams into herself as the words tumble out, jagged and acerbic. She collapses and Finn folds her in his arms.

Finn’s embrace is full of empathy, one that cannot possibly relate but chooses to hold space nevertheless. It’s different than when Ben consoles her. His hugs include their own battered sadness, an _“I’m here in this with you. You are not alone.”_

Rey lets Finn scaffold her through the tears. Maybe it’s part of his social work experience, or maybe he intuitively knows how the default comfort entails platitudes that are not only unhelpful but aggressively invalidating. She doesn’t need people to shush her and say _“Don’t cry. It’s okay.”_

Soon, her sobs diminish and Finn speaks. “I’m so sorry, Rey. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

Rey finds her breath again. Her lungs remember how to move at an even pace, one that pulls in oxygen and releases carbon dioxide in equal measure. Her eyes feel puffy from the exertion.

“You’re very good. At putting people at ease, making them feel like it’s okay to fall apart.” She wipes her eyes.

He presses his lips into a half-smile. “I think you’ve been bottling up so much for so long. It’s time to let it out. I don’t know him, but I think Ben would want that, too.”

She holds her breath for a moment and starts talking.

“I was seven months along. We’d been trying to get pregnant for a year-and-a-half already. It was surprisingly hard. Neither of us expected it to be that _hard._ After a while, we had to stop thinking about sex as a baby-making process. It felt more positive to have sex when we wanted to, not just because it was the right of the month.” Rey sniffs again, chuckles. “Timing sex isn’t fun. Anyway, I even went to see an acupuncturist who specialized in fertility. A friend suggested it and I thought, _Why not try it?_ And the next month I was pregnant. I couldn’t believe it.”

Rey’s throat starts to scratch so she gulps half her glass. “It was kind of hard to be pregnant. The nausea was a lot. I had ligament stretches that left me doubled over. And I struggled to sleep. But I was happy. I knew these were all necessary steps. Ben went out of his way to help, making whatever food I craved, adding pillows to the bed and giving me massages every day. He fucking _doted_ on me.” This part of the memory is golden, warm. She suddenly wishes she could hug Ben.

Rey adjusts herself on the couch, trying to be comfortable. _I’m not sure if that will ever be possible again._ She shakes her head.

“It was the middle of the night when I started to feel this sharp pain in my abdomen. I woke up screaming and freaked Ben out. He wasn’t sure what to do. We didn’t want to jump to any dramatic conclusions, though I could tell his first thought was _We need to get to the hospital._ But he waited for me to say more, to come to the conclusion that felt right to me.” Rey sighs heavily. “I made up my mind when I saw the blood. I just knew something was wrong. It was strange, actually. Like a deep knowledge, beyond comprehending something mentally. I looked at Ben and without a word he understood. He carried me to the car and raced us to the hospital.”

No tears threaten to overcome her vision the more she talks. Her heart thuds quietly, plunking away in her chest. There’s a pleasant warmth on her back from the sunlight. Each emotion seems to float high above her, a kite caught in a voracious updraft. She is left earthbound, unable to tug them down, an observer of all that surrounds her.

“The doctor listened for a heartbeat and we knew at once, even without explanation, what was going on. I panicked but Ben didn’t. He pressed his palms to my shoulders and poured his love into me. Then they put me under and did an emergency c-section. I’m not even sure about the sequence of events. I was lucky enough to be unconscious for what came next. Ben was _awake_ through it all. I was told he stayed nearby through the whole thing, holding my hand… I don’t deserve him, you know. I didn’t earn that kind of goodness.” The tears reappear as she tumbles from her memory back into the present.

Finn grips her hand and speaks softly. “That’s not how it works, Rey. We don’t move around the world securing the right to be loved. Everyone needs love. Everyone is worthy of it. You have so much love in you and everything Ben feels for you is true. Trust in that.”

The emotions submerge her again. “How can I trust in anything?”

“I know it’s hard. You suffered an unimaginable wound. A loss that words cannot describe let alone relieve. Still, I think it’s possible.”

She purses her lips, trying to hold in another round of sorrow. “I don’t know how to move on. Ben needs me to. But it seems impossible. I can’t stop thinking about how different my life would be if my baby had lived.” Rey clutches at her scalp. “What if I can never move on? What if I have to let Ben go so he can finally live an actual life? My body is broken. Every pregnancy now ends in miscarriage. I can’t even think about having sex anymore. Everything is _hopeless._ ” She leans forward and sobs.

Finn rubs her back. “I understand why you feel that way. I can see how much you want a child, Rey. How excruciating this has been. And... this isn’t the only path to becoming a parent. There is still hope.” He tilts his head to meet her eyes, making sure his message is going through. “This is not the end of the road for bringing a child into your family. What’s important is that you talk with Ben and take care of yourself. I bet he’s suffering, as well. It may seem like he has healed but I guarantee it still hurts him too. Maybe he never let himself truly grieve because it seemed more important to take care of you.”

It takes a moment for his words to sink in. Rey blinks. “Oh. Maybe you’re right.” She looks away, lost in thought.

“I am honored you told me this story, that you trusted me with this much pain. All of your sadness is so valid. I don’t have firsthand experience but I do know it’s one of the worst things a person can go through. And you are stronger than you know. You can heal from this. And it doesn’t have to be on your own. You have Ben. Everything you’ve told me about him makes it clear how much he loves you.”

Rey stares at Finn, the accumulation of tears starting to tickle. She swipes the wetness away and nods profusely. “You’re right. I know he loves me, which in itself is a wonder. I’ve always been a burden. It’s hard to believe otherwise. Ben would glare at me for saying that...” She chuckles weepily.

“I can’t imagine what you’ve been through. And your love has been the key. Your love makes you stronger so that in the worst of times, you’ll be able to overcome anything.”

“Are you preparing your wedding vows?” Rey asks with a laugh. She nudges him with her shoulder as a blush races up his cheeks.

“Sort of. Been thinking a lot about that how grateful I am to have found Poe.” Finn looks down sheepishly.

“I’m grateful too. That in the painful chaos of this world, we find people who make it better.” Rey senses a calming inside herself, a frantic pair of wings finally coming to rest after years in flight. “I’m exhausted.” She sinks into the couch but no dangerous, shadowy ink spills into her mind. Only a sense of what to do next.

“I’ll be on my way, then. Thank you for talking with me. I hope you don’t feel like I bullied you into it.” Finn stands and frowns at her.

Rey follows him and manages a small smile. “Not at all. I’m too stubborn to be bullied. And anyway, I think I was on the verge of exploding. Or maybe something less dramatic. Just, slowly fading away.” She swallows. “Thank you, Finn. For everything. Your friendship is a gift and your support is more than I could ever ask for.”

His cheeks round, eyes softening. “Anything for you. I’m just relieved I could help. I feel better too, in a selfish way. Helping someone makes me have a sense of purpose.”

“It’s not selfish. It’s just what I need to hear, actually. That my protracted confessions didn’t weigh you down.” She tries to smile again but it feels forced.

“You don’t weigh people down, Rey. That was one of the first things I noticed about you. You are remarkably kind and warm. Considerate. Generous. Nothing about you is a burden.” Finn hugs her and she sighs against him.

“Thank you. I will let you know how it goes with Ben.”

He pulls back, nods. “Take care of yourself. Eat some chocolate,” he adds with a wink.

Rey chuckles and waves him through the door. When it clicks shut she glances at her watch. _Good. Ben will be home soon._ And she trots away to wash her face and change into a nice dress.  
  


* * *

  
At 5:25 her alarm goes off. She feels a kind of discordant clanging in her chest, excitement and anxiety intoning in varying pitches. Shaking her hands, Rey goes into the kitchen and lets herself drink a little more wine. _Just one last glass. To settle my nerves._

Something takes the place of her chest’s percussion, something flashing and brash. A warning. But already the alcohol curves the edges of her mind, taming the thoughts that stick out angularly.

_I’m going to talk to Ben. We are going to figure this out._

There’s a thudding at the door. In an instant Rey’s opening it and ushering Ben in. “I’m so happy you’re home, Ben. I think I’ve had a breakthrough.”

Ben looks harried, frayed. He glances at her distantly, his brow creased for a reason she cannot guess. She tries not to let it dampen her resolve.

“I’m happy to hear that, Rey.” He gives her a partial, hurried hug. The movement causes his workbag to swing into her side.

She hides her wince. “Are you alright, Ben?”

He doesn’t respond immediately. Setting his bag down on the kitchen counter, he lurches for the partially consumed wine bottle. He drinks from it deeply.

“Not really. But I don’t want to talk about it yet.”

Rey sidles up beside him. “Okay. You can tell me when you’re ready. Do you want to hear about my day?” She takes his hand and drops several kisses along his knuckles.

“Sure,” Ben replies and swigs again.

“Finn came over--”

“Finn?” Ben stares at her for a moment.

“Yes, he came to check up on me. My firing was pretty public. He saw the whole thing go down and texted to ask how I was doing. I invited him over because I thought some company would do me good--”

“You needed company?” Ben’s eyes have taken on a dark sheen; an oil spill slicking across an otherwise tranquil sea.

“I just needed a friend,” Rey says slowly.

“Because I’m not enough?” His shoulders look hunched. In a violent arc, his arm brings the bottle to his lips. It empties.

“I understand why you might be mad but Finn actuall--”

“I get it. Finn helped,” Ben snaps sardonically.

“Will you stop interrupting? He convinced me it’s time to really, honestly _talk_ to you.”

To her horror, Ben laughs. It’s a calloused and weary sound. “So glad someone could make that case. God knows I can’t.” He goes to the cabinet and pulls out a bottle of whiskey.

“Ben, stop this, please! I need to tell you everything I’ve figured out. I understand that you’ve been suffering too.” Rey tugs the bottle from his hands, sets it down, takes his face into her hands as quickly as possible. “I love you. I’m sorry I’ve been so wrapped up in my own grief that I missed yours. I’ve been selfish. And I haven’t even found a way forward. Because I can’t find that path without you. I thought I could,” she adds breathlessly and leans onto her tiptoes. With a feather-soft touch, she kisses him. He stays rigid and cold, then yields.

But only for a moment.

Grabbing her hands, he pulls them from his face. “What if it’s too late? What if we’ve both become broken shells of who we once were? We _can't be_ who we once were.” He paces the kitchen, fists balled tightly.

Rey recoils. “You’re being cruel now.”

His head whips toward her. “Am I? Well after your stunt at work we really couldn’t afford anything else going wrong. But I was fired today. Because I had to leave early to take care of you. Again. All I do is fucking take care of _you._ ” The instant the words are out he freezes, eyes wide and lips wet. Then he blinks repeatedly, clearing a haze or a possession. Rey’s not sure and has no capacity to understand.

He steps forward, his expression rich with regret and guilt. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. I’m just stressed about work. This whole thing is a mess and I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He tries to capture her hands in his.

Stricken, she stares at him. He looks overcast, shades of gray and black swirling together chaotically. Rey takes several steps back.

“But it’s true. What you said.”

_It’s true._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this story is a lot. Please reach out if you need to. I'm sending a hug to anyone who wants one <3


	5. Chapter 5

In one moment, Rey is there and utterly heartbroken and Ben hates himself. The next she is gone and Ben hates himself even more. It happens so quickly it leaves him reeling in place.

He stares rigidly, mesmerized by the door slowly following her swift departure. As if pulled by phantom strings, pursuing her. It stops moving centimeters from the frame, left to hang between open and closed. 

Exhausted and distraught, Ben cannot find the courage to yank it open and run after her. _She wants space, needs space._ But he knows this is just an excuse. Still, he immobilizes like chipped stone, rooted to the earth and dissolving over eons, flake by flake. 

_This is what everything has been leading to. Me alone, incapable of giving Rey what she needs._ No, worse. _Me hurting Rey._

It takes several moments to notice the steady trickle of tears down his cheeks. There’s rage and disappointment, self-loathing and regret in every rounded orb of moisture. If he were to inspect them, they’d reflect back the room, which sits upside down and empty save for him. Inverted and desolate.

_This is all wrong._

The silence is too much, too stagnant. Inhaling sharply Ben walks to the kitchen. He accidentally kicks the corner of the cabinet, and though it doesn’t hurt through his shoe, he cusses loudly for good measure. Effortlessly, his thoughts start snowballing.

 _I am a fucking jackass._ He takes a gulp of the alcohol sitting on the counter and winces, the burn of whiskey causing a fierce imprint upon him. It hisses fire and pressure all the way down to his cells. _I hope it burns out every last part of me that fucks up. That harms the love person I love._

A litany of grievances take shape, each one more splintered and corrosive than the last. _Rey wanted to talk to me and I yelled at her. I don’t deserve to be anywhere near her._ He drinks again, feet finding a circle eight pattern around the connected rooms. _I am a fucking awful person._ For the first time he notices that the sunlight has shifted substantially down the living room window. He wonders where Rey is. _I don’t deserve to fucking live._

Ben staggers, then catches himself on the back of the couch, fingers splayed out and clutching. He’s nauseous from the sequence of events, and maybe a little from the rapid intake of alcohol. Every part of his body protests his mistakes, which accumulate en masse and threaten cataclysm.

His mind betrays him further with that initial glimpse of her… when she moved in front of him to unexpectedly command his attention in the museum. It was such a shock to see a woman obstruct his view of the painting, with eyes eager and shining in a way Ben had never witnessed before. He had simply been existing in a sphere of independence (and loneliness), visiting a piece by Chuck Close he’d read about, intrigued enough to leave his home and witness something new.

Ben couldn’t claim that art had ever been a passion of his. But the idea that someone with face blindness could work, tiny square at a time, to craft such a strikingly realistic human portrait fascinated Ben. _Maybe, even with whatever supposed shortcomings we each have, maybe as long as we keep working the end result will be worthwhile. Something to be proud of._

Rey was the perfect example of that. After years of neglect and abuse in her foster home, she was committed to improving herself and achieving her goals. He genuinely thought nothing could discourage her, that she would stand up against the end of the world itself, defiant to her last breath.

If he’s honest, he’s always been a bit jealous of her tenacity, this sheer force of will. _I’ve already given up on the things I once imagined, planned for. I’ve given up on everything._

_Except her._

A deep honest part of him warns that this isn’t right either, that he should have some meaning and purpose for himself that go beyond a romantic partner. But Ben has never had healthy tendencies, never had parents model healthy independence and relationships. He’s not sure how to go about developing such things. His negative habits smother any hope of that, hope in himself.

Suddenly, he needs to lay down. Ben stumbles to the couch and falls heavily upon it, an anguished groan escaping him. His head rests at an uncomfortable angle against the armrest and his overlong legs don’t fit no matter what scrunched Ben forces himself into. _I always was too fucking big for every space I ever wanted to relax in._

He lays there, imagining himself a stone sunk to the bottom of a river. Torrid waves rush above him, cold and violent in their flow. He doesn’t thrash against this fate. The fear that _there’s no escape from this_ permeates the air.

The stifling, oppressive silence of the apartment ends when Rey’s phone starts chirping. Ben jumps and whirls around trying to locate it. He spots it sitting on the coffee table, feels vague confusion that he hadn’t noticed it before. _Too fixated on self-pity and obsessing over my countless atrocious mistakes._

Ben doesn’t look at first, letting the realization formalize that she was in such a hurry to leave that she forgot a mode of communication. _Either she forgot. Or didn’t want to be reached._ His throat feels dry.

When the phone alerts again, he snaps toward it. Two notifications from Finn crowd out the screen. He hesitates, uncertain if by reading them he is invading her privacy. _But. I don’t know where she is. She could be in trouble. I hope she’ll understand._

Ben wraps his fingers across the phone, her protective case more functional than attractive. _Rey prefers most things that way,_ Ben thinks automatically. He types in her password and reads the texts.

**“I hope you got some rest and are able to talk with Ben. It really was an honor for you to trust me with your story. Let me know how it goes and when we can hang out next.”**

Ben rereads it multiple times, eyes tracing the tiny black letters. _Okay, I really overreacted._ He moves to throw the phone onto the couch, stops himself, and focuses on breathing slowly until his lungs become convinced it’s a worthy endeavor. 

_Finn helped her. When I couldn’t. And that’s okay. She needed someone to talk to and I wasn’t that person. But when did I stop being that person for her?_

Another round of tears stings his eyes and Ben observes their apartment around him as if from inside a fishbowl. _It’s an apt analogy, alone in a space too empty and too small._ He sinks to the floor and sobs into his hands, knees jutting out and shoulders stooped. 

This goes on without hindrance until his body proclaims it is spent. Time continues its sifting. Undeterred, unending.

At last, he rolls his head back and breathes through his open mouth, imagining that Rey sits behind him on the couch. She used to give him a massage in this position, which had the ability to clear his muddied mind. His heart seizes. _I miss her._

Ben opens his eyes and makes a decision. He sits up, grabs her phone, and types a reply. _“Hi Finn, it’s Ben. Rey left. Can I come over?”_

Finn’s reply bubble pops up, then disappears for a beat, and reappears again. His response takes several seconds. Ben tries not to bite his nails in apprehension.

**“Sure, Ben. Is she okay?”**

_“Hard to say. I really fucked up.”_

Finn replies with his address and Ben launches toward the door. At the last second, he remembers his keys and manages to snatch them from his bag with little delay. The crash of the door echoes down the hall as he sprints through the building.

He’s resolute in what happens next. _I will open up. I will talk about everything that’s happened if Finn lets me. No more holding back, not if it means losing Rey._

Ben hopes down the apartment stairs three at a time, his right foot leading the way. _Things are going to get better, Rey. I promise. I will get better._  


  


* * *

  
The afternoon light is oddly specific, a dirty warmth that coats the streets and saplings, the bodegas and shops. 

Finn’s place isn’t far. Ben finds a parking place without issue and heads toward the specified building. As he approaches the second-floor apartment, it occurs to him that it could also be Poe’s residence and that he has never met either of these men before, despite having several opportunities to. 

_I’m just showing up at a stranger’s home. With a tear-stained face. Hoping to talk._ He grits his teeth and tries to fortify his nerve.

Ben’s knuckles rap three times on the door. It opens promptly to reveal a man with eyes full of concern. He ushers Ben inside.

“Ben, are you alright?” Finn asks immediately, skipping over the regular introductions.

“Not really. Thank you for letting me come over. I don’t know what else to do. I yelled at her. When all she wanted to do was finally talk.” The words spill out of him, unfiltered and accelerated. Ben doesn’t take in the space, simply starts pacing around the high-vaulted living room.

“Of course. Do you need anything? Water?”

Ben considers asking for a shot of something but quickly dismisses this. The alcohol he consumed was meant to lessen the pain of the present without hindering his functions, not make it risky to drive. He remembers promising his parents how he’d _never do anything so reckless._ But he has watched Rey become overly reliant on alcohol. He knows the dangers of this slippery slope well.

“Water would be great.”

Finn nods, departs, and reemerges with two glasses. “Alright, I’m all ears. What happened?” He settles on the couch.

Ben pauses and worries his inner cheek between his teeth. “I mean, I don’t want to dump all this on you. I obviously don’t know you. And I’d hate to be rude--”

Finn cuts him off with a wave of his hand. “I know I haven’t known Rey all that long but I care about her. The whole firing episode would have gutted anyone. But I can tell Rey has been struggling with so much… I imagine you have, too. So I offer you what I offered Rey; a safe space to unburden yourself. If you’re comfortable, that is.” Finn adjusts his position on the far side of the couch and gives Ben an encouraging look.

“Weirdly enough, I am. Comfortable I mean. Now I know why Rey is so fond of you. You’re a… very nice person.” Ben swigs his water.

“Well, I think Rey is, too. She probably didn’t tell you about my background in social work. Listening and supporting someone going through a hard time is kind of… What Poe describes as ‘my calling,’ though I’ve strayed away from it recently.”

Ben inclines his head in agreement. “You have the energy for it.” Ben says this while staring down at his feet. Finn stays silent, letting Ben gather his thoughts. “I was jealous that she talked to you. After years of trying to get her to open up to _me_ she opened up to _you_ …” Ben sighs. “But I get why she needs a friend. And why that friend would be you.”

“We have come to place many requests on our romantic partners, to an unrealistic degree. It’s not possible to fulfill all the roles perfectly all the time. There are certain expectations that become impossibly high for one person to meet.” Finn shrugs sympathetically.

Ben exhales sharply. “That makes sense. I don’t want to disappoint anybody, Rey especially. It was just a terrible day. I got fired because I had to leave work early yesterday to pick her up. I was so fucking angry at the whole avoidable catastrophe. We’ve been making ends meet but now we’re both unemployed. It all just built up and built up until I saw her at home, so energized and ready to talk... I just couldn’t comprehend discussing the baby. The last thing I could _think_ about was the baby and all the others that we lost. I didn’t keep track, couldn’t manage to count them up. I know Rey, did though. Because every miscarriage was another point in what she thought of as the failure column. She tracks her supposed failures more than I do of my own, and that’s saying something.” Ben’s a bit breathless, head still lowered and hands clasped between his legs. “There’s nothing fair about this life. Because Rey is loving and generous. It makes so much sense that she should be able to share that with a child. So we kept trying and trying until we could barely look at each other anymore...” His voice weakens, splinters. To his left, Finn leans forward.

“Ben. I’m truly sorry you have gone through so much. All of that staggering personal loss. And on top of that, this issue with the drinking and the firings.”

“So you think there’s a drinking problem?” 

“I cannot say for sure but Rey does seem to rely on alcohol and of course, it led to an issue at work. If I had known, I wouldn’t have suggested a drink for lunch. I was just excited. I feel horrible for the suggestion.” Finn sags, continues. “But I would like to add that this amount of stress would cause anyone to break down as you did.” 

“But it’s no excuse for yelling at her,” Ben says savagely.

“Also true,” Finn agrees. “And you are human. A human under immense pressure. You and Rey have been in survival mode for years, unable to find a path forward. Be kind to yourself, Ben. Forgive yourself for mistakes made while functioning from a state of grief.”

Ben shakes his head and swallows a rising acid. “I can’t. I don’t deserve to be forgiven for any of it. All I’ve ever done is fuck things up, for my parents, for my uncle--” He chokes on the words and squints his eyes shut. “I thought I could make up for all of that with Rey. That for once, having someone who truly loved me could give me the strength to be _better._ ” He can’t look at Finn.

“Why do you feel like you’ve fucked everything up?”

“I’m a disappointment. My parents wanted to get rid of me at ten because I was such a mess. My uncle offered to take me in since he’d had his own issues, saw himself in me or something ridiculous like that. But I refused to go. And my parents just kind of… stopped looking at me after that. _They’d_ wanted me gone. My _uncle_ wanted a mentee. And all _I_ wanted was to have my parents give a damn about me.” He wipes his nose aggressively on his sleeve and stands. 

Finn’s eyes track him around the room. When he speaks it’s with immense consideration. “Parental disappointment is a weight many of us carry. I’m sorry you struggled with that for so long. Have you ever talked to them about how you feel?”

Ben scoffs. “No. I left at sixteen and haven’t said a word to them since.”

“Maybe connecting with them could help. Though I don’t know all the details of your experiences, I have found that many parents do have the capacity to own their mistakes, apologize for the harm they inflict upon their children.”

Ben stops pacing. “My parents are very stubborn...”

“I’m sure they miss you.”

Instinctively Ben jolts away. 

Finn rushes to say more. “And I say that while also seeing the pain you’ve felt. Your anger is valid. This fear of being inadequate seems to have been with you since childhood and carries into your relationship with Rey. She chose you, though. She loves you. And if you can’t believe it yourself, trust in her belief in you.” Finn wrinkles his forehead. “I’m rusty, apparently. But I mean it, Ben.”

Ben deflates on the couch. “No, you’re pretty good at this.” He pauses and works his jaw unconsciously. “I don’t want to see them…” His knee bounces anxiously. “If I go see them, I’m not sure how I’ll survive.”

“If you go see them, you’ll go for your own healing, to say all the words that have been bottled up for years. You can’t expect anything from them.”

Ben looks at him, brow furrowed, then nods. He allows the silence to build until he has the resolve to ask his most dreaded question. “What if it’s too late? With my parents? With… Rey?”

Finn’s expression turns sad. “Then you’ll have to find a way through that, too. I don’t think it is, though. Rey probably just needs space. She might already be back at your house.” Finn pauses, about to say more, then closes his mouth.

“What? You can say it.”

Finn adjusts his posture. “Well, it might not be the most appropriate thing to say since Rey isn’t here. I just had a thought that maybe she wants a child so badly for a chance to reenact her own childhood. An _emotionally corrective relationship._ Maybe she feels that by becoming a mother she can finally heal herself, too.”

Ben blinks. “It may not be appropriate but it’s an enlightening observation.” He sits with the possibility, rolling the potential truth around his mind. Something clicks into place. “It’s probably the same for me.”

“It’s more common than you’d think, actually. The more aware we are as prospective parents the better it will be for our prospective children.”

Ben nods more emphatically. “That makes sense. I wish I’d realized it sooner.” He looks away, overwhelmed by these new perspectives, angry that after all these years, he still knows so little.

Finn leans forward. “Friendly reminder to be gentle with yourself, Ben. Try to muster some compassion. Just for a second imagine the cracks, the _chasms_ that exist within you after all these traumatic experiences. Any tiny action could cause a rupturing. If today was the first outburst you’ve had in years, then that shows how successfully you’ve been suppressing your emotions for quite some time.”

“I promised I wouldn’t lose my temper like my dad,” Ben replies softly.

“That’s an admirable objective. It also means you have to process things, let them out. If you bottle it up an explosion is likely to happen again.”

Ben looks at Finn, who sits with his elbows on his knees. “You’re right, Finn. About all of it. I’ll go see my parents, try to talk with them. But first I need to find Rey.” Ben stands and this time Finn mirrors him.

“Of course. I’m glad I could help. Two sessions in one day… I think this means the universe is pointing me back toward social work,” Finn says thoughtfully, then balks. “Not to trivialize your suffering…”

Ben shakes his head, the hint of a smile pulling at his mouth. “I know, I didn’t take it that way. You have passion and skill. It’s good that you’ll quit that terrible translation job.”

Finn grins. “Exactly. And I should take Poe with me. He’d rather be flying planes, anyway.”

“Hopefully I’ll meet him, at some point. And thank you, Finn.” He wraps his arms around Finn’s shoulders gruffly. The shorter man stills, surprised for a moment, and embraces him in return.

“Please let me know when you find her.”

“I will. And the next time we hang out, I promise not to request any therapy from you.” Ben laughs, which feels peculiar.

Finn joins him. “It’s all good, really. Take care of yourself.” 

“You too, Finn.” Ben waves as he walks through the door and starts down the hall.

He feels oddly composed, like a magnet hovered above his wayward splinters of iron and aligned them all neatly. _What comes next won’t be easy. But for once I feel ready. I know what I have to do. What’s left is finding the strength to do it._

When he steps from the floor onto the staircase, a series of rapid footfalls reach his ears. Ben glances over his shoulder to see Finn sprinting toward him. The man is holding his phone.

“Ben!” 

At once Ben hurries back up to meet him, concern building. “What?”

“I got a text from an unknown number. It’s Rey. I know where she is. I’m not sure if you’ll like it. Though I must admit it holds a certain irony…”

“Where, Finn?” Ben interrupts impatiently.

“She’s with your parents.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finn is working so hard to help everybody out 💛


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last entirely angsty chapter. Thank you for sticking with this story!

The first time Rey reached out to Leia she thought she would collapse from shaking. 

Rey had convinced herself that this was for the best, that he would understand one day. That maybe, in the best case scenario, he’d thank her. But that was a long way off and the steps to get there felt like a betrayal. 

It was after Ben proposed and plans for a wedding were underway. The joy that proliferated inside Rey was nearly physical, as though her body couldn’t contain it all. To her amazement, Ben was the same. The way he looked at her, in study and exaltation, made her toes curl with delight.

But lingering under the excitement was something she couldn’t say out loud. She wanted Ben’s parents to be part of the journey, desperately. Because, though grateful to her foster parents for giving her a home, she refused to let them be present in her adult life. They were necessary for a time but Rey grew out of them, moved beyond them. _It’s best to let the past die._

The few hints Ben dropped about his parents pointed to formidable individuals. Han started at the bottom as a used car salesperson, then years later, opened his own dealership, specializing in customized cars built for speed. Leia, on the other hand, took a more subdued path of academia that led to tenure and a plethora of accolades. 

When the subject unfrequently came up, Ben made jabs about Han liking his cars more than his own son, while Leia preferred research and grants. Either way, Ben told Rey how low he always was on their priorities list. No matter how he tried to appear nonchalant about it, Rey knew he never overcame these fundamental wounds.

It had been Rey’s hope that she would be the one to mend this broken family. Her own family hardly counted as more than a group of people who made sure she stayed alive (and even then, they performed the bare minimum to accomplish this task). Rey was certain Ben’s family still had a chance. There was shared history and love, presumably.

 _For Ben to lose touch with people I know love him, but failed to communicate it well, is something I cannot accept._ She took to her new task with characteristic focus and gusto. Which meant reaching out to them behind his back.

She found Leia’s office contact through her university. It took a couple of days to craft an email to Leia. It was brief, to the point. 

_“Hello, My name is Rey and I am engaged to your son. Can I meet you?”_

The response came through within an hour. **“Rey, Congratulations on your engagement. We had no idea. Does Ben know you’re reaching out?”**

To which Rey considered lying but decided that would be an unfortunate way to start a relationship with her in-laws. She settled on: _“He doesn’t. I’d really like to learn more about what happened with your relationship. If you’re comfortable telling me.”_

Rey waited two days for Leia’s subsequent response. **“Here is my cell number. Call whenever you’d like.”**

So Rey called that evening when Ben went grocery shopping after work.

The woman who picked up had a gruff voice like she was used to admonishing interns and energizing students to get their work done. There was a crackle of emotion when Rey explained who she was. Leia was silent for a time.

“Rey, I didn’t expect you to call right away. I--”

“Is it alright? I can call back later.”

“No, dear. It’s fine. I was about to start dinner but Han can do that.” Rey caught a kind of muffled snort in the background. “Anyway, it is lovely to connect with you. But I worry that Ben will find out and be quite angry with both of us.”

Rey shook her head, grateful that Leia could not see her expression. “Ben will get over it, I’m sure. I think he… misses you.” Her voice floundered for a moment, but she swallowed and spoke louder. “I know he regrets what happened.”

Leia made a kind of strangled sniffing noise. “Did he say that?” she asked timidly. 

Rey blinked the wetness from her eyes and glanced at her feet.

“No, but I know him. He carries this awful sadness, one that won’t crumble or decompose. Like… petrified wood. It’s dense and cold and he just lugs around with him. I’d like him to be able to let it go, finally. I’d like for him to have his family.” She didn’t add how much she’d like a family, too.

Leia heaved a sigh. “I’m putting you on speaker-phone, is that alright?”

“Yes. Is Han there?” Rey tried to imagine a version of Ben, older and maybe greyer and perhaps more short-tempered. 

“Yeah, I’m here. Hi Rey. I heard about the wedding…” He cleared his throat. “I wish we could be there.”

He’s not what she had imagined. He sounded honest, genuine, not like the hardened emotionally absent father Ben described. _But then again, I’m sure years of estrangement from one’s child can change a person._

“Maybe you can. I’m going to work on Ben a bit,” Rey replied.

There was a beat of disbelieving silence. “I like your positivity. Though I think it will take more than a few encouraging words to shift how he feels about us. We made so many mistakes.” Leia’s voice splinters.

“We know how we fucked up,” Han added and there’s a rustling noise. Rey imagined Leia hitting her husband. “Sorry for the language.”

Rey huffed a chuckle. “It’s alright. I know it will take work. I was thinking… What if you sent a wedding present? Something that could remind him of something happy. Something joyful to associate with the two of you. I’ll open it with him and get him to talk about it.”

“I don’t know,” Han said slowly. “That sounds risky. What if it feels too heavy-handed? He might think we’re trying to manipulate him.” He took a drink of something, ice clinking in the glass.

“That’s why I’ll be there,” Rey countered confidently. “So, any idea what you could send?”

Another pause on the other then, then Han and Leia spoke at the same time. “Grapefruit spoons.”

Rey laughed. “ _Grapefruit spoons?_ Why?”

A peel of laughter escaped Leia as Han replied. “Maybe we’ll tell you one day when we’re all together in person.”

“Maybe with a grandbaby sleeping nearby,” Leia added quietly. Rey smiled so wide she wondered if her cheeks would be sore from the exertion.

“Oh goodness, I genuinely can’t wait.”  
  


* * *

  
Rey rings the doorbell, unannounced and anxious. It’s not how she wanted to meet her in-laws, _actually_ meet them, but it’s the only thing that possessed her mind as she ran from the apartment just hours earlier.

She knows their address from the wedding gift they sent, had saved it in her phone, and used it to send a discrete thank you card. Of course, she’d failed to bring her phone today-- _damnit,_ she thinks viciously. It’s lucky she has a knack for remembering such things.

If she goes back to those last moments, when Ben yelled and her heart unspooled perilously, she shudders. Instead, Rey focuses on the cream-colored door in front of her. 

It’s a nice house, not large enough to make her think they have that much money. _I wonder if Ben exaggerated?_ Several lush plants grow around the porch, flourishing in the early autumn’s warmth.

She wrings her hands and bounces on her feet, willing herself to knock. Abruptly, the door opens and she jumps. Her eyes grow wide at the arrival of another face.

“Who are you?” The man is grizzled, weary. She can tell at once it’s Ben’s father.

“Rey,” she answers woodenly.

Han’s tensed shoulders relax a bit. “Rey.” Her name slips by as an exhale. “What are you doing here? Is Ben with you?” He cranes his neck to peer around her anxiously.

“No,” she says at once. He deflates, nods, ushers her inside.

“Leia, Rey is here!” Han calls into the house. The entryway has one of those large shoe shelves and coat hooks, laden with a multitude items. Photos adorn the walls, some landscape, some peopled. There’s one of a little boy, dark curls rimming his forehead. His eyes are clamped shut and his mouth spreads in a wide smile as he races across a room. She forces herself to look away, heart constricted, and follows Han.

Leia appears in the room, frazzled. “What’s going on? Are you alright?”

Rey purses her lips. “Mostly. I’m sorry to just show up. I didn’t know where else to go.” 

The older woman hesitates for a moment, reading body language or something else, then wraps her arms around Rey.

That is enough for Rey to break down. Tears chase one another down her cheeks, catching on Leia’s shoulder. The older woman holds her firmly.

Han hovers nearby, concerned and unsure. Rey keeps clutching Leia. “I lied. Nothing is alright. I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Leia pulls back and guides Rey to the couch in the next room. She can’t distinguish the space itself through her blurry vision but it feels cozy. Leia supports Rey as she sits.

“I’ll get some water,” Han mumbles and disappears.

“Tell me, Rey. What’s going on?”

“I don’t know if I can say it yet. It’s too--”

Leia nods at once and cradles Rey’s head. “No rush, dear. We’re here when you’re ready.”

Her eyes are closed but Rey can tell Han has returned from the thunk of a heavy glass on the coffee table. Then, there’s a rustling sinking sound as she guesses Han sits on a chair nearby. Making these distanced observations seems to help her, so she keeps doing it.

Over her quiet sobs, a clock ticks genially. _Maybe it’s a grandfather clock. I always liked those._ A skittering percussion draws her attention next. It grows louder until a soft whiny noise erupts. Rey breathes more evenly and manages to open her eyes. 

On Han’s lap sits a small dog, a dark brown yorkie mix. It’s unexpected to see such a large man cradling a dog. It makes her smile through the last of the tears.

Rey leans back from Leia’s embrace and sniffs. Leia immediately supplies a tissue from the couch-side table. Rey murmurs a thank you and blows her nose. The sound enters the space loudly, comically, and does wonders to lighten the mood.

She glances at Han and Leia apologetically.

“Do you want to talk now or eat something first?” Leia asks, holding onto Rey’s hands.

“Talk, if that’s alright. I really am sorry to burst in like this.”

“It’s not a problem for us. But I don’t think Ben will like it…” Han trails off, notices Rey glance at the dog. “This is Chewie. Rescue.” He quirks a smile. Rey matches it briefly, then lets her expression turn serious.

“I don’t want to tiptoe around Ben anymore. I don’t want him to tiptoe around me, either,” Rey adds emphatically. “I think it’s time we address things head-on. And that means telling you both that he misses you, that he regrets leaving, that he’s still angry but he does love you both.”

Han and Leia remain immobile.

“What brought you here, Rey? I hope it wasn’t to make him follow you...” Leia’s brows are raised slightly. Rey can tell she’s trying not to sound accusatory. It mostly works.

“No. I just didn’t know where else to go,” Rey replies, working her hands into a twisted knot. She gulps air, then shares the dreaded confession. “We were pregnant.” She levels her gaze at both of them. 

“Oh.” Leia’s face falls.

“Were…?” Han’s brow wrinkles as understanding dawns on him.

“Yes. The baby was... stillborn at seven months. And after that, I just couldn’t carry past a couple months.” Rey feels her voice falter but swallows and carries on. “And I’m afraid our relationship might be ending because of it.”

Her in-laws don’t speak for several moments, each one processing the news. Leia presses her lips together, eyes downcast. Han averts his gaze as well, absently petting the dog on his lap.

A few seconds pass, then, Leia encircles her in another hug. “Rey, I’m so sorry.”

Han makes an abrasive throaty sound from his chair. The dog hops down. “It’s good you came,” Han mutters.

Leia pulls back. “You have suffered through something unimaginable. I experienced a miscarriage after Ben. It’s a terrible thing. But the thought of losing a baby so late…” Leia’s eyes glisten with tears. “And so many more after that. No one should have to experience that pain.”

Rey swipes impatiently under her eyes. The salty moisture reaches her lips despite these efforts. She shifts on the couch, words evading her.

“And now you think Ben will leave you?” Han asks, his voice starting to blister with anger.

“No, not at all.” Rey looks at him emphatically. “Ben will never leave. He loves me. He’s too good. The relationship is breaking because of _me._ Because I can’t talk with him. Because I’m a mess and don’t even know how to broach the subject. It’s all my fault.” Rey’s anguish returns in earnest, causing Han’s expression to shift.

Leia darts a look at her husband, then back to Rey. “I doubt that. A relationship needs both partners to work. You shouldn’t blame yourself, especially after going through such an awful thing.” Looking at Leia is challenging. _Her gentle eyes remind me of Ben._ Rey’s sobs intensify.

“You don’t understand. I tried to talk with him today, to finally bring us back together.” She’s weeping profusely, unable to suppress any of the grief that has calcified within her for years. “But I’m afraid we’re just broken. _I’m broken._ ”

Leia embraces her roughly, arms spread across the span of Rey’s back until most of the light is shut out. Rey keeps crying in her mother-in-law’s lap, fractured images of Ben and their old life, their lost potential future, flitting through her weary mind. The confidence she felt mere hours before has been eviscerated. 

_I’m foolish for feeling it at all._

There’s a flurry of movement beside her and she weakly glances through the cave of Leia’s embrace. Chewie now sits on the couch, head tilted slightly to the left. Meeting the dog’s gaze seems to give him the permission he needed; instantly he’s pushing into the huddle.

His cold nose makes Rey jump and choke out a chuckle. She sits up but stays close to Leia, who keeps an arm around her shoulders comfortingly. Han rigidly follows the dog to the couch, seemingly preparing himself for something.

“Leia and I considered separating for a while. Ben was ten. We thought he should go stay with Leia’s brother Luke so we could figure things out. We weren’t good parents to Ben. He needed more from us. It seemed like Luke could be the dad he needed…” Han trails off, gulps, then continues. “That was another mistake of ours. But anyway, I’m telling you this because all relationships are hard.”

Leia nods and interjects. “I will add that the difficulties you two have gone through are a whole other level.” 

Han nods appreciatively at Leia and speaks to Rey. “That’s true. It comes down to making choices, Rey. You get to make a choice about your actions. Ben gets to make a choice about his actions. All these things that have gone horribly wrong… Those weren’t choices. They can’t be _your_ fault. They are awful accidents. Stop blaming yourself for things you can’t control.” He says it kindly. Still, he watches her, nervous he might have been too harsh. As if afraid of the same thing, Leia clutches her tighter.

Rey listens intently, shakes her head, tries to _accept_ the truth in these words. Chewie nuzzles the edge of her palm and she scratches his head reflexively. The dog closes his eyes. 

“If I forgive myself--” Rey’s voice breaks. Leia hands her the water and she sips. “If I forgive myself, what if I forget the baby? What if loving another baby erases him?” She’s barely audible. Leia wipes tears from her eyes, signaling she heard nonetheless.

“He will always be in your heart, Rey. And if he could be here in person he would be so lucky to have your love. There’s no chance he would ever want for any love with you and Ben as his parents.” Leia squeezes Rey’s hand. “Finding a path forward in life isn’t about forgetting the past. It’s carrying it with us in a way we can handle, learn, and grow from. You deserve to have happiness, Rey. And so does Ben.”

Leia presses her lips together until they go white. Her eyes dart between Rey’s, swimming with compassion and understanding. Stabilized by the older woman’s presence, Rey cries silently, letting the realization percolate deep.

“My parents found a life without me. I don’t think they ever looked back. I’m scared of being like them.”

The words gurgle from somewhere unknown. It feels like the first time Rey has ever heard them, felt them. But they ring true. She wonders how long she has held this unknown fear, hidden away to fester.

Han’s hand comes to rest on her back. “Whatever choice your parents made, we can’t know. But you are your own person, Rey. And a remarkable person, at that.”

Rey glances at him sideways. “I hope you’re right.”

“He is, Rey.”

The new voice comes from someone beyond the couch they inhabit. It’s familiar and potent. Rey’s head jerks to the left.

“You’re here,” Rey breathes.

Leia and Han jump to their feet, staring at Ben as if caught in the headlights of a car.

Rey follows at once, bounds across the floor, and leaps into his arms. To her relief, he catches her, holds her firmly. He’s making tiny gasping sounds as his fingers knead into her back.

“I’m so glad I found you.”

“I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad, Ben.”

He’s shaking his head, face still buried in her hair. “I’m not mad. I’m glad you’re here. I’m sorry I yelled. I love you. I love you.” The words spill out of him, running into one long sentence.

“I love you, too,” she sobs.

She’s not sure how long they hold each other but at some point they come apart to share a burst of feverish kisses. Ben’s face looks simultaneously pinched and relieved when at last she gets a look at it. He grabs her hand and Rey relishes the warmth. Then he turns to his parents.

“We need to talk.”

Leia looks both panicky and resolute. Despite his obvious apprehension, Han steps forward. “Son, you have no idea how long we’ve wanted to do just that.”

The flesh under Ben’s eye twitches, as Rey guessed it would. But he doesn’t lash out, doesn’t run away. She watches his Adam’s apple bob.

“Good. You get to start, then. And no drinking until we’re done.”

Ben’s tone is harsh but it’s a fair demand. _He’s right. Alcohol has made so many things worse lately._ She breathes through an onslaught of regret.

They all ramble into the living room and Rey glances at each person in turn. _This isn’t how I wanted this to happen. But I’m so glad that it finally is._ She sinks onto the couch and motions for Ben to join her. He does, slowly, and jolts when Chewie pops up in his lap.

Ben stares at the creature for a long time. “You look just like my old dog,” he says quietly and stratches at Chewie’s head. The tiny grin on his face makes Rey’s heart sputter with optimism.

_Maybe everything will be alright._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your thoughts <3


	7. Chapter 7

The dog sits in his lap and stares expectantly. Ben gazes back while running his fingers through the wiry fur. It’s not what he should be focusing on, sitting here in his parents’ house, with them mere feet away. But suddenly, he feels five years old again, cuddling with a dog when no one else was around except the babysitter.

It transports him, but not in a good way. 

As if sensing this, Rey nestles closer. He lets her warmth infiltrate his interstitial spaces, borrowing courage for what comes next. _Rey never shies away from something difficult. Now it’s my turn._

When the silence turns oppressive, Ben looks at his parents, head tilted toward Rey. “So, I take it you all know each other,” he deadpans. 

Rey squeaks out an uncomfortable laugh. “I contacted them before the wedding. I thought…”

“You could fix things.” Ben gestures around the room. There’s a vague surprise at how calm he’s acting. In truth, he doesn’t feel much of anything beyond relief at finding Rey. He’s also not at all shocked that Rey would try to rectify these familial fissures. _She’s stubborn and hopeful and I love her so damn much for it._

Ben drove faster than he should have once he knew where she was. Rey texted Finn the address, just in case, but Ben hadn’t needed it. This is where he lived before he moved out at sixteen. The house that holds palpable misery, dappled with a few happy memories that he begrudgingly acknowledges.

It looks different now. Plants hang in various places. _I wonder who takes care of them._ The ugly carpet is gone. The wood paneling was removed and the room have a coat of bright, creamy paint. Ben studies the family photos adorning the walls. _I don’t remember those being there._ Maybe he can’t trust his own memory. It’s a dangerous possibility. 

Leia, who sits adjacent to Han in a chair, calls him back to the present moment. “Ben. I know the circumstances aren’t ideal but it is good to have you here. There’s so much we’ve wanted to tell you. That we made more errors in our parenting than we can possibly articulate. But we will try to. That we didn’t properly adjust our life for a child, concluded we wouldn’t have to change very much about our lives. We worked too much, expected you to be fine on your way with whatever childcare we procured.” Leia rattles each sentence off swiftly, having clearly identified and stewed over the list of failures for years. She pauses, breath held, awaiting a response.

Ben’s eyes are wide. “Launching right in, huh.” He knows that’s what he requested but it’s still _too much, too fast._ No response seems appropriate so he remains quiet.

Han leans forward. “I’m sorry I missed most of your childhood. Your first steps, first words. I regret it all.” The man looks stricken. Ben holds his breath, blinks repeatedly. “All for a professional goal that ended up feeling empty.”

This is new. Han loved his dealership and garage, loved the special requests that wealthier people brought to him. There was always a problem to solve in the engine, or the body, or the suspension. Han set his mind to the task and neglected all else. Ben can’t remember ever seeing Han happier than working on a custom job. And if he’s honest, Ben had always resented it.

So to learn that after all of those years, all of those experiences that his father was absent from amounted to _nothing but regret?_ Ben grits his teeth and tries to keep himself from snarling.

“Empty?”

Han sags. “What I lost wasn’t worth any of it.”

Ben can’t sustain the anger. In its wake comes sweeping disbelief, a cold slippery sadness taking up residence in his mind. Rey pulls his hand into her lap and winds their fingers together. _She’s here. I can do this. I’m not alone._ He takes several full breaths.

“Okay, well that’s pretty shitty to find out, dad.” Ben runs the free hand through his hair and exhales sharply. Then, to his supreme shock, he emits a salty chuckle. It comes from deep down, a rumble in the base of a mountain that reaches the peak slowly. After a moment, it the sound brings a catharsis with it. Ben finds the tension begin to leave his body.

“Tell me about it,” Han says and snorts. Ben glances at him sharply. _It’s not normal to observe this man taking responsibility for anything._ Still, there’s honesty behind the words. “To tell you the truth, I never thought I’d live long enough to have regrets. But I do. Mostly about you.” 

Ben has to look away. He’s never seen tenderness in his father’s eyes like this; it breaks a specific part of him while stitching something else back together. Something he assumed would always be an open wound. Eventually, Ben glances at Leia, wondering why she’s being so quiet.

It’s immediately obvious. Her eyes are shattered glass, all sharp edges and pain. She clears her throat “Your father and I separated for a little while and considered getting divorced. That’s why we wanted you to live with Luke, to avoid witnessing the breakdown of our relationship. We wanted to tell you the truth but you were so _young._ ”

The confession hangs in the air leaving Ben winded for a moment, all that fresh oxygen stalling somewhere in his chest. “What? You separated?” He scrambles around his mind, desperate for some evidence that this occurred. Scraps of memories surface, but nothing more than his dad working late or staying at his friend’s house…

_Oh._

“Just for a little while. Then we worked it out.” Leia glances at Han and grips his hand.

“What happened?” The conversation has become derailed because Rey is his priority. Not this group airing of grievances and humble apologies. But he can’t shift the conversation. He has to know more. _There’s understanding here I’ve never had before._

Han visibly swallows. “Your mother and I have always had a fiery relationship. Resentment built up. You were, understandably, acting out. We weren’t _juggling_ well. Things got to a breaking point.”

Leia cuts in, her voice stronger than before. “But being apart wasn’t right either. We realized it was time to change or we would lose everything. I believed that it would be enough for our family to heal things with your father. I didn’t realize we needed to heal with you, too, Ben.”

Ben’s head fills with sand. Dry, suffocating thoughts build up until he has to shake himself from their grasp. “And Luke was actually supposed to help with all this? You thought me staying with him would somehow help _me_? He wanted to turn me into him, not get to know me as my own person.” He swallows roughly.

“We didn’t know what else to do. I convinced myself it would be best for you, while in truth we were trying to remove one of the problems we were facing at the time. It turns out we couldn’t have been more wrong about any of it.” Leia’s face quivers with emotion but she holds firm. _She’s not letting herself off the hook, not deflecting with her own feelings._

It’s foreign to be centered in this way. His parents stare at him with a reckless degree of devotion and remorse. Ben shifts uncomfortably.

At some point, Rey leaned forward to lay her head on his shoulder. Her silent, robust presence helps calm the stormy waters of his mind. None of it makes sense in a comprehensible sort of way. But it rings true on a more submerged level, like all the things he was too young to understand were still noted somewhere in his subconscious.

He tries to process this information, to understand. Then a single bitter conclusion coalesces.

“Well, I’m glad at least you two worked it out.” The moment the words slip out he feels guilty. He puts his face into his hands, kneading the skin restlessly. Leia surges forward. 

“It took years. We’re still in therapy. I wish we could go back in time to fix every fumble we made with you. I’m so sorry, Ben.” Her knuckles fold tightly in on themselves, skin more transparent than he remembers.

Their mortality strikes him unexpectedly. How many years they have lived separate lives. How many more they could if things don’t change.

_They are earnest. They aren’t just telling me what they think I want to hear. And I do believe them. But does that mean giving them another chance? Do I let them back in?_

Rey cocks her head, trying to catch his eyes. She has a gravitational tug he could never deny. When he looks at her, she offers a small encouraging smile. Her confidence is tangible, persuasive. It runs through him, delicate and resolute. 

_We’re going to get through this._

“Alright. Well, thanks for telling me, I guess.” Ben looks at Han and Leia, who sit on pins and needles. There’s a surplus of unshed tears that he isn’t ready to release. He keeps them contained, for now.

Randomly Ben remembers the dog, wondering when it jumped away. 

“It’s a tough thing, realizing your parents are nothing more than _people._ Capable of blunders like everyone else.” Han looks more relaxed now that the hardest part is over.

Ben’s brain snags on a prior comment. “Wait, rewind for a minute. _You’re_ in therapy?” Ben furrows his brow at his dad, who laughs.

“Yeah. It’s awful. But a good kind of awful.” Han gives Leia a quirked smile. She nudges him playfully, briefly. Then they sober.

Ben shakes his head, another question bubbling to the surface. “Why didn’t you try harder to reach out to me after I left?”

“We were afraid to admit our failures. To say we _failed_ you. Plus, you did a really good job going off the radar.”

Leia nods. “No matter how much I missed you, I couldn’t overcome that hardened stone of hubris. On top of that, I made excuses about giving you space, respecting your decisions. It’s absurd, of course. You were still a child.”

Every sentence emerges as if rehearsed. _They’ve thought so much about this. Considered every word. Almost mapped out these apologies._ Consequently, the whole thing could feel fake. But it doesn’t strike him as disingenuous. It feels intentional.

He remembers what Finn said about some parents being capable of growing up. _Maybe I’m the lucky one, after all. My parents are in front of me, saying they’re sorry. Owning up for the past. When all I wanted to do was run away._

_I was running from their love but never knew it._

Ben shakes his head and looks at Rey. “So you’re the reason we got grapefruit spoons as a wedding present.”

She startles at the sudden shift in conversation flow, then grins. It’s timid, self-conscious. Then it blossoms into a wonder of enthusiasm. “Yes. I’m still waiting on an explanation, by the way. I use those spoons all the time but never knew they were something _important_ to you, Ben.” Her eyes dance. She doesn’t blame him for not telling her sooner. _She doesn’t seem to blame me for anything._

Leia laughs. “We did promise you a story. Do you want to tell it, Ben?”

“Hell no. It’s _embarrassing._ ” Ben grimaces while Han smirks.

“No, it’s not.”

“Okay, get to it already!” Rey nearly bounces on the couch. Ben finally notices the dog, who starts running circles around the coffee table from the excitement.

Leia straightens in the chair, eager to regale them. “Ben liked fruit as a child. He had a babysitter who introduced a lot of different kinds to him, and for some reason, he loved grapefruit the most. She gave him the special serrated spoon for his fourth birthday, telling him how to use it. The next day, Ben was digging in the neglected, dying garden with the spoon. When I asked him what he was doing, his response was, ‘The spoon gets only the good stuff and leaves the bad. So I’m saving the flowers.’ He started keeping the spoon with him all the time and brandished it like a weapon; when Han and I fought; when he had bad dreams. He’d say ‘only the good stuff!’ over and over. The spoon made him feel safe.”

“As long as I had the spoon, I could find the happy parts. No matter the situation,” Ben mumbles. He promptly wants to dissolve into disparate particles and float away. Leia’s eyes glint with emotion he’s not sure how to describe.

Han clears his throat. “We thought the spoons would remind you that there are good things about the world. And that you were our good thing.”

Ben can’t hold back the tears anymore. He breaks, gasping breath making his whole torso shake. Rey encircles him but her arms can’t reach all the way around. At once, his mother is there, too. Han sits close, a stony hand on Ben’s foot.

From a peculiar distance, Ben observes everyone overlapping him. The most important people, burying him in love. He’s swimming in disbelief. Still, the tears seep through him.

Eventually, he notices how dark the room is, the space cast in murky shadows. Ben can’t even be sure when exactly the sun set. He doesn’t mind, though; he hasn’t been afraid of the dark in a long time.  
  


* * *

  
“The neighborhood didn’t feel peaceful like this before. More like… Claustrophobic.” Ben sits in a rocking chair on the porch with Rey on his lap due to the lack of chairs. She’s warm and light, arm slung around his shoulder. Leia sits beside him in the other rocking chair. Han tries to recline on the steps.

“I think any small place is like that for a kid,” Leia replies knowingly.

“It’s changed for the better. You remember the Holloways?” Han asks.

“Yes. Pompous jerks if I recall correctly.” Ben tries to keep his voice low. Rey is dozing on his chest by now.

“They’re gone. Better neighbors all around.”

Leia nods. “We were thinking of buying the next house for sale. You know, a real estate investment.” She says this with a mysterious tone, something perhaps hidden underneath the words themselves. It piques Ben’s interest.

“What’s the _real_ reason, mom?” He’s slipped back into calling them mom and dad. It’s incredibly mollifying, sanding down the rough patches in his heart. A relief he didn’t know he craved.

“In case anyone needs to move nearby,” Han contributes with a sly look.

Ben’s emotions revert to a previous state of normal. He holds his tongue, which immediately wants to rattle off something snide and acerbic. _I don’t need your help. I’ve done fine on my own. But you wouldn’t know that._ Instead, he inhales slowly. It’s a possibility he shouldn’t immediately reject. After all, they are both currently unemployed. Maybe his pride could handle some financial support while he and Rey find their way back.

Silence settles, interrupted by Leia’s yawn. “Alright, I’m ready for bed. Looks like Rey is too.” Her voice is full of mirth. Ben nods, wraps his arms firmly around Rey and stands. She settles against him with a soft sound.

“Good night,” Leia says, kissing Han on the forehead. She follows Ben into the house and quietly shuts the door. “I’m glad you’re staying the night, Ben. It’s good to have you here.” She frowns her sincerity.

Ben shifts his weight, still holding Rey. “It is good. I’m actually glad Rey came. I was going to reach out, actually. The timing of everything is pretty weird.”

Leia rests a hand on his shoulder, squeezes gently. “We’re here if you need us, you know that right?” 

Ben nods once. “Thanks for helping with Rey. She’s been going through so much…” He stops talking.

Leia’s expression falters. “You’ve both been through it. And you can heal and become even stronger together. Trust me.” She gives him a restrained smile and walks to the master bedroom.

Ben gives her a head start, then heads to his old room. It’s automatic, he realizes with a jolt. _I didn’t even ask if there’s a guest room. Maybe it’s an office now? A gym?_ The last idea makes him almost snort.

He stops in front of his old door, shifts Rey again, and tries the doorknob. With a push it swings open and he comes up short at the sight. 

The posters, furniture, and bookshelf are all the same. The only noticeable change is whatever laundry he left strewn about the floor as a final protest was picked up. He remains unmoving for several moments until he remembers his arms are full.

Gingerly walking around the bed, Ben tugs back the comforter and deposits Rey. He can’t imagine the sheets have been washed anytime recently. But he knows neither of them will mind in the least. He tucks her in, kisses her on the cheek. His heart tugs at the sight of her in his teenaged bed. Then he heads back to the porch.

_I hope dad is still there._

Han has moved to one of the rocking chairs. “She asleep in your old bed?”

“Yeah. You left my room the same,” Ben says faintly.

Han replies sheepishly. “Well, mostly. We did shove a few storage boxes in there.”

Ben whips his head around. “Why?” He has to ask even though he knows the answer.

Han doesn’t respond, just offers a crooked smile. 

They sit together quietly. Ben is sure it’s past midnight. And though exhausted beyond measure, he’s not ready to leave his dad yet.

“This single day has felt like a year.”

Han sighs his own fatigue.

Ben feels an urge to keep talking, to corral his courage for a specific question. “I am impressed by your cooking.”

“Took classes for that, too. The therapist said I needed a creative outlet or something.” Han laughs. “God knows your mother was never skilled in the kitchen.”

“That’s true.” Ben nods slowly, recalling many a failed casserole. “I learned how to cook, as well. I never thought we’d have something like that in common.” He looks at his dad through the gloom. The street lights offer a distant glow, making it difficult to discern Han’s expression. It’s wistful, Ben thinks.

“We have more in common than you think. You reminded me of me as a kid.” Han glances at Ben and away. “I was always getting into trouble. My parents weren’t around so I got away with a lot. I figured I turned out alright. I figured I’d do it differently with you. But I was always _restless._ Which isn’t an excuse,” Han adds and looks at his son.

“I know, dad.”

Han shakes his head. “Making a choice is one thing. But applying it, changing behavior. That’s the hard part. Especially when you fear the worst habits are in your nature...” Han trails off.

_This is it. Ask the question._

“And what if it’s impossible to do it differently? What if we keep making the same generational mistakes?” Ben’s voice shakes. “I don’t know if I’m cut out to be a father.”

Han looks at him so fast he worries it’ll cause whiplash. “You will be an extraordinary father. We have similarities, Ben. But many differences, too. You are more patient than I ever was. You not only know what’s right, you follow through. And you let yourself _feel._ I never got the hang of that.” 

Ben swallows the clump of emotion lodged in his throat. “Sometimes I’d rather be numb.”

“That’s why I’ve always drank too much. But it’s not a good way to handle things. Or so the experts say.” Han shrugs sardonically. “Point is, son, I’m proud of you. I should have told you that a long time ago.”

Ben’s breathing hitches. He shuts his eyes, works his jaw. Vertigo descends upon him ferociously. Then a firm hand claps him on the back, anchoring and steady. Ben opens his eyes and his father is there, the limited light catching in Han’s eyes.

“I’m sorry, Ben. You deserved better. I’d like to try again if it’s not too late.”

_After all these years. I thought they hated me. Or worse. Didn’t care about me._

A sob gurgles forth. He purses his lips savagely, tries to find words. “ _Mind?_ How could I mind?” His voice comes out scratchy. Instinctively, he flings his arms around Han. The older man freezes only briefly and returns the embrace.

“I’m glad you’re home.”

Ben shakes his head in agreement. “Me too, dad.”  
  


* * *

  
When at last Ben crawls into bed, he’s sure he will sleep for an entire twenty-four hours straight. He settles in beside Rey, hand coming to rest on her hip, and eases closer until there is full linear contact between their forms. _I believe in us, Rey. I believe we will get through this._

The bed feels familiar and musty. He can smell Rey’s hair and it relaxes him further. The rhythm of her chest lulls him toward slumber. 

Before Ben slips into oblivion entirely, Rey rolls over and burrows into him. She kisses his lips, drowsy and tender, and they fall asleep wrapped in the respite of the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Onward to uplifting fluff!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW: discussion of suicidal thoughts. 
> 
> If you need to talk to someone, please reach out.  
> National Suicide Prevention Lifeline  
> Hours: Available 24 hours. Languages: English, Spanish.  
> 800-273-8255

Maz sits patiently in her large chair, hands clasped and expression serene. 

Across from her, Rey flounders for an answer. Her anxiety drums below the surface, detectable but not overwhelming. She purses her lips. “I suppose I’ve been using alcohol to keep the pain at bay.”

Maz nods slowly. “That’s typical after experiencing a traumatic loss. Do you feel drinking has negatively impacted your life?” The therapist’s accent is rich and textured. _I could listen to her ask deep, uncomfortable questions all day._

“Yes. I mean, I lost my job because I drank at lunch. And then Ben lost his job having to pick me up that day.” She looks down, shame tinging her cheeks.

“Addiction has the ability to ravage and destroy. Like dominos, one unfortunate incident can lead to many more. Recognizing the damaging pattern of behavior is the best thing you can do, Rey.” Maz tilts her head, the beaded string of her glasses catching the afternoon light.

She presses her lips together. “I know. But recognizing it means doing something about it. It means stopping, which… Scares me.” 

“Can you tell me more about that?”

Rey swallows, folds her hands, switches her legs around. “To be alone with my _thoughts_ and _feelings._ ” Her eyes prick with tears. Maz watches her, providing sufficient time to continue. Bile rises in her throat. _I’ve never said this out loud._ “I haven’t ever hurt myself but the impulse has been there, to just end it. I’ve thought that everything, especially for Ben, would be better without me.”

“Have you ever made a plan to end your life?” Maz’s eyes have sharpened slightly at this. But she’s still the picture of composure.

“No, not a _plan._ This is so dorky but Ben loves buildings. He’ll sometimes mention how tall they are, just marveling at their construction. But I can’t stop where my brain goes, how jumping would be quick…” Distantly, Rey realizes she’s crying. 

_It feels surprisingly good to get all this out._

“What do you think underlies these feelings?”

“The loss of my son. The miscarriages. I feel ashamed like I could have avoided all of it somehow… And--” Rey chokes. “I’ve always felt like a burden. In a foster home, with caretakers who couldn’t have cared less about me. As an adult, ll I’ve done is switch caretakers. I rely on Ben for everything it seems like. I feel _so guilty._ ”

“I understand those feelings. It sounds like during your childhood you were made to feel like a liability instead of part of a family. Is that correct?”

Rey blinks. “Yes. Maybe that’s why I want a family so badly,” she mumbles through her tears.

“I’m sorry you experienced that, Rey. All children should be made to feel loved and treasured. Do you want to say more about that?”

“Well, there’s more fear, too.” Rey exhales through the aches caused by shaky limbs and tense shoulders. “Because I’ve considered adopting, fostering. What if I’m incapable of loving a child that didn’t come from my body? It disturbs me, to worry like this. But my foster parents never loved me. Not really. What if I’m so broken I make other children feel the way I felt?”

Maz leans forward. “I see the love in you, Rey. You overflow with it. You will not repeat the mistakes of the past. Because your acknowledgment of how your foster parents failed you is valuable data, on top of being unfortunate trauma. The best thing we can do is learn from the past so we can do better. I hear you are afraid of becoming a parent. You are already on your way to overcoming this fear.

Rey can’t find any words for an extended moment. She stands brusquely and paces while Maz observes. “It’s just… overwhelming. What you’re saying. You sound so optimistic.”

Maz sits back in the chair. “I am happy to share my optimism with you. I believe we can work together through this trauma, this guilt you have carried. We can get to a point where you are excited to start a family with Ben because it will improve your life to do so, rather than to prove you are different than your foster parents.”

Rey startles. “Is that what I’m doing?”

“It’s a possibility. And I will say for a fact that you are loved. I don’t have to know your husband to know that he loves you. It can be hard to let someone take care of us when we need it, especially after years of being made to feel like an imposition on someone else’s life. It is worth trying.” 

Rey sinks onto the couch. The rush of tears has subsided. She sniffs aggressively and nods.

“Now, I’d like to talk more about your depression specifically. Figure out some techniques to combat these thoughts of ending your life.”

“Okay.” Rey looks up, meets Maz’s eyes. She knows it’s going to be a long journey. But for once, she recognizes that she’s not alone. _And I haven’t been in so long._ Rey sits up straighter. “I’m ready.”

Maz smiles and at once the ember of hope jumps from her and burrows into Rey.  
  


* * *

  


Rey walks the hallway to their apartment slowly, mind full. To open such old wounds causes a rupturing kind of anguish within her core. _And yet._ She sees a path through it, with Maz’s help, and with Ben’s. 

_I’m strong enough to get through this._ The resolution is certain and clear. She exhales and opens the apartment door. Ben’s there already. He wraps his arms around her and places multiple kisses on her forehead.

“How was it? Are you alright?”

“Yes, actually. Maz is an incredible therapist. I don’t know why I ever resisted going.” Rey encircles Ben’s torso and sighs. “She made me feel safe enough to voice the most unpleasant truths. I could just sob and ramble and she _understood,_ despite all my blubbering. I’m going again next week. She even gave me homework.”

Ben stares down at her, eyes overflowing with relief and adoration. Not for the first time she imagines slipping into those auburn splinters, feeling the mossy greens of his irises between my fingers. He quirks a smile at her.

“What kind of homework?” He tugs her to the couch.

She falls upon his lap without grace or composure. The solid rush of him makes her tremble, his heat stalling her thoughts. “Well,” she replies breathlessly. “Positive self-talk. Opening up to you. And no alcohol. Maybe even finding an AA group.”

“I’m here for you through all of it,” Ben affirms immediately.

Rey smiles shyly. “That’s more of my homework; letting you help.” She snuggles against the wall of his chest while Ben places a hand on her thigh. “And what about you? How was your first appointment this morning?”

“Uncomfortable at first but it got better. It’s weird to open up to a total stranger. But their objectivity is kind of great.” 

Rey nods against his chest and tries to match his breathing. “Do you want to talk more about it?”

“Not right now. I have to mull it all over more… And anyway, I have a surprise for you.”

His goosebump-inducing tone makes her sit up in his lap. She looks at him curiously, then brings her hands to either side of his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “Whatever the surprise, I just want you to know how grateful I am for you, Ben. You have been a rock through everything. Steady and reliable… I’ve never meant to be anything but grateful for you.”

“I’ve messed up, too. I shouldn’t be on any kind of pedestal.” His face falls.

“You’re right. We’ve both had missteps along the way. And we’re learning.” Rey shrugs and slips her fingers into his hair, tugging slightly. His mouth falls open.

“I missed you today,” he murmurs, lips seeking hers. Rey nods feverishly and leans into the eager kiss. His hands dash hot trails along her body, clutching and pulling.

“I miss _this._ ” Rey presses her hips farther onto his thighs. He makes a pent-up hissing sound, grips her hips, and flips them over in a flurry of fervor. Rey giggles from the sudden light-headedness. She lets herself relax on the couch, Ben’s weight on her only partially.

Rey’s not sure what his surprise is but it feels impossible to quell this fiery flare. She works to unbutton his shirt as he palms her chest. She sighs and squirms for more contact.

“Can your surprise wait?” she whispers, nipping at his lip.

His eyes flash as he wraps one of her legs around his waist. “Yes.” It’s more of a grunt than a word. Rey grins and meets his mouth again. She gets his shirt off before he starts on her pants. Her body thrums in excitement. 

Their clothes pile up beside the couch, a series of layers they shed most ardently. They have the rest of their lives for surprises. For now, this is exactly where she needs to be.  
  


* * *

  


“Can I look yet?”

“Nope,” Ben calls from a distance. Rey shifts her weight impatiently, 

“What if I’m getting hungry?”

“Food is part of it.” This time he’s closer. She hears something rustling nearby. When he speaks next, it’s close enough to make her jump. “Okay, you can take it off now.”

Her hands spring up to remove the red patterned bandana. Ben stands before her, hair mussed and grin phosphorescent. He’s holding an antique tray with grapefruits both sliced in half and peeled like an orange, along with the spoons. Before she can process what’s occurring words fall from his mouth.

“Rey, when I was a kid, I thought life had to be about the good parts and nothing else. But now I know it doesn’t work that way. Our past has goodness as well as suffering. Whatever our future holds, both positive and negative, I am happy that we’ll go through it together.”

Rey blinks at the sting of tears. “Oh, Ben. What is this?” She gestures around the small, woodland park. He grins again and hands her a slice of grapefruit, skin and all. She obediently eats it and laughs when he eats another slice.

“We can do the fancy spoon way later. Come on,” Ben says mischievously and grabs her hand. Her fingers slip between his. Caught up in his enthusiasm, Rey bounces after him.

They come to a picnic table that has a mountain of something covered in a large maroon cloth. Ben steps in front of it and she faces him bashfully. He cups her cheek, his own tinged crimson.

“The first time I saw you, it was like everything snapped into color. My life was monochromatic before you popped up in front of me. You changed everything that day.” He leans over and pulls the cloth off to reveal a miniature version of the Chuck Close painting. Other artworks from the museum decorate the table, each one framed. “I can’t wait to wander through more museums with you, Rey. And other places, too,” he adds with a shrug.

“Ben.” Her eyes fall upon the series of pieces, each one reminding her of that day and their awkward wander through the gallery rooms. “This is extraordinary,” she says tearfully. 

Ben tries to hide his satisfied grin behind a fist but she captures it and kisses his knuckles. His fingers curve, some bent from adolescent hijinks, against her mouth. “There’s more,” Ben stammers, watching her drag his fingers across her lips.

_I will never know love such as this._

He clears his throat. “Next up…” Ben announces dramatically. He walks her to another spot down the crushed granite trail. “Our first date.” Rey barks out a laugh.

“It was a disaster. Until I saved it.” She beams at him and he nods.

“I swear I made that reservation. But there was a mistake at the restaurant. And I panicked. You said we should go to a corner store and get some cheap stuff for a nighttime picnic. We were lucky there were candles there for sale.” Ben’s expression is wistful.

Rey steps into his arms. “And then I got tipsy on that awful red wine. I have a headache just thinking about it.”

“There’s no wine here. But I’ve got plenty of other things…” Ben crouches and reveals a familiar display of American cheese, Saltines, canned olives, some carbonated fruity water, and a bunch of grapes. A ring of unlit candles outlines the picnic. 

Rey shakes her head, at a loss for words. She opens and closes her mouth repeatedly until her stomach rumbles. Ben promptly offers her a small bowl already filled with nibbles. “For the rest of the walk. I knew you would be hungry.”

She accepts the bowl happily and links arms with him. “Even if it didn’t go according to plan, I wouldn’t change anything about our first date.” Rey pops a cracker into her mouth as they start walking.

Ben looks at her sideways, mouth quirked. “Good. Me either. And we more than made up for it with some amazing anniversaries.” They come upon a picnic table where old speaker sits with an ancient iPod. Ben hits the button and a song starts playing. “You got us tickets for the Neutral Milk Hotel reunion tour, even though you’d barely listened to them, because you knew how happy it would make me. We’d been together a year and I’d known for a long time I wanted to marry you. That was when I thought maybe you’d want to marry me, too.” Ben speaks softly, eyes boring into hers and she shivers.

“And the next year you got us Taylor Swift tickets for the exact same reason.” Rey leans her face upon his chest and sways to the music. Ben’s head comes to rest on hers, arms wrapped tightly around Rey’s shoulders. 

“Taylor definitely grew on me.” His breath teases her hair. Abrupt tears come to her eyes and find their path earthward.

“This is too much, Ben. I can’t believe you did all this.”

“There’s more,” he repeats tenderly. “You deserve more.”

She pulls back just as the _Aeroplane Over the Sea_ begins the third verse. “I don’t, Ben. You’re enough. You’ve always been more than enough.” He works his jaw, eyes turning watery, and kisses her forehead.

They undulate in the twilight for the remainder of the song, taking turns humming the tune and crying. As the last rays of sunlight slip behind the trees, string lights turn on. Rey gasps.

“Ben! You did this?”

His expression is bashful. “I had assistance...” She’s too stunned to ask who, just lets him pull her along. The whole way she marvels at the square of light the bulbs are creating above them. When they come to a stop, Rey finally looks in front of her. All at once, she’s too stunned to speak.

Before her stands a wooden arbor covered in flowers in a rainbow of color and variety. _It’s from our wedding ceremony._ She gapes at Ben, a single weirdly rational thought overpowering her bevy of emotions. “We can’t afford this.” Her eyes trace the rambunctious floral display.

“I knew you’d say that. They’re donated from a local florist who was going to throw them out anyway. I promised that we’d tell everyone who needs flowers to go to that shop.”

She looks at him again, noting his unabashed glee. _I haven’t seen him like this in so long._ “I can’t believe this, Ben. I don’t even know what to say.” Rey steps toward the altar and places a hand on the wooden frame.

Ben steps beside her and she revels in his warmth. “You don’t have to say anything. You said it all on our wedding day.” His nose touches hers, breath ghosting her cheek.

“There’s one more thing,” Ben mutters. He trails his lips from Rey’s ear to her chin and she shudders.

“What else could there be?” Overwhelmed, she leans back to lock eyes with him.

He doesn’t say anything but there’s something in his eyes she understands instinctively. A melancholy wave crashes into her but she won’t avoid it any longer. “Not just the good bits,” Rey repeats.

Silently he laces their fingers and walks her to the center of the lit space. There’s a small something there she hadn’t noticed before. He kneels, strikes a match, and lights a candle.

Rey sinks to the ground across from him and they focus on the candle quietly. It’s significant to watch this little flicker fight against the evening breeze. The spark and flail soothe her, despite the wind’s insistence on snuffing it out. She regulates her breathing and blinks back tears.

“I’ll never not miss him. Miss who he could have been. What it would have been like if he could have stayed.” Ben’s voice strains under the weight of the words and he falters. It’s the most he’s said on the subject for years. 

Rey grabs his hand and takes over.

“I was so afraid that moving on meant forgetting him. I know now that he will always be with us because we carry him.” Rey swallows a lump in her throat, lungs seizing. Ben picks up the candle, cradles it in his hands. Rey places hers around the circle of fire and flesh. Neither of them moves for a long time.

Eventually, they set the candle down, lock eyes, and blow it out together.

“I’m sorry I never let you fully grieve,” Rey sobs.

Ben puts the candle down and holds her firmly. “I didn’t let myself. It wasn’t your fault, Rey. I’m sorry I wasn’t there in the way you needed me.” The rumble of his words makes her heart ache.

“I wasn’t there for you, either. How could we have handled it all so wrong?” She clutches at his shirt desperately.

“We did our best. And now we can do better.” Ben kisses her temple. 

She wiggles from his arms to look directly at him. “Ben. We’re stronger together. I finally understand that. I’m sorry I ever doubted it.” Her voice breaks only a little.

He nods emphatically and leans in for a kiss, which she welcomes with salty tears. In a fluid movement, he scoops her up, making her huff out a laugh. He carries her back to the picnic where the candles have been mysteriously lit.

Rey glances around and furrows her brow. “ _How_ have you done all this, Ben?”

There’s a stifled laugh from the bushes. Ben flushes, sags. “You can come out.”

More rustling occurs and then Finn stumbles out from the foliage, followed by Poe.

“Hi, Rey. Sorry, Ben…”

Poe waves sheepishly. “We were supposed to stay in the background...”

“No, it’s alright. You did everything else perfectly so I’ll forgive this less than romantic reveal.” Ben attempts a smirk. Rey hides her laugh. _He never could pull off smirking._

Poe seems to remember something. “Well, not perfectly. I have to get the music over here.” He trots to the speaker nearby.

Finn looks at them both with such giddy approval Rey feels herself redden. 

“You saw the whole thing then?” 

Finn raises his hands. “No, no! We weren’t looking or listening. We totally respect the importance of privacy in this moment…”

Poe returns, places the speaker on the ground, and claps a hand on Finn’s shoulder. “Relax, love.” Poe looks at Rey with a mock-serious face. “We weren’t snooping, honest. Just here to do some behind-the-scenes prep for this grand act of devotion!” He grins widely for several seconds. Ben clears his throat and Poe glances at him. “Oh right, yeah, we’ll be on our way now. You two enjoy your convenience store picnic.” Poe winks at Rey and lovingly pulls Finn back to the entrance.

Ben exhales. “Well, this was the surprise.”

Rey laughs. “I gathered that.” She crawls closer to him on the blanket, brushing her lips on his.  
“It was the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me, Ben. Thank you.” She pushes him backward roughly and slides on top of him. His eyes go wide, lips part.

“Still hungry?” he asks in a low voice.

Heat courses through her. “Not in the same way I was before. How long do we have?”

Ben makes a conflicted face, both primal and rational. “Poe’s friend is the park attendant. We have until 9pm. But we really shouldn’t have sex here, no matter how much I _want_ to.” He adjusts their positions and sits up to kiss her collarbone. She groans and leans her head back.

“True. But I feel like a frisky teenager.”

Ben laughs and pulls back. With eyes full of mirth, he hands her a glass of bubbly liquid. “To our younger selves, then, who have no idea what life has in store for them, and who did their best.”

“And to our future selves, who will do even better, and not take any of it granted.”

They clink their glasses and drink beneath the golden lights.


	9. Chapter 9

Ben ducks his head in the shower, not expecting to have grown so much since last using it. The old showerhead sputters in a familiar way until hot water begins to pour forth. At once, Ben sags in relief under the onslaught. 

Already his body complains from the first run he has done in years. For a few precious moments, he stands under the shower without moving, imagining all the soreness swirling down the drain. _I need to get back in the habit. Then it won’t be this awful…_

The door clicks open and Ben has an uninvited flashback of his parents barging in on him as a teenager. But then a welcome pair of arms encircle him. He relaxes at the touch.

“How was your run?” Rey asks, pressing her lips to his skin.

“Mmm. Painful. I ran too far, I think.” Ben brings her to stand side-by-side in the warm spray. “How was your morning with my parents? I still feel bad leaving you--”

Rey interrupts. “It was really nice! We had breakfast and then talked about things.”

Ben trails his fingers down her bare sides. “Things?” he asks vaguely, suddenly focused on tracing her forehead with eager kisses.

She shivers but stays on subject. “Yes. They helped me figure out a plan.” Her words click and echo, making him stop.

“What kind of plan?” His brows knit together suspiciously. But it doesn’t last long before he’s touching her again, worry forgotten. _What is there to stress about when Rey is here in my arms?_ He lets his hands drift along the plains on her body.

She groans softly at his heightened pressure. “Remember how you said you wanted to go back to school? With that in mind, and considering how we won’t be able to pay for our apartment much longer both being unemployed…”

This snaps him out of his near-delirium. “Rey--”

“No, listen! We weren’t scheming behind your back, just exploring our possibilities.”

Ben shakes his head. “I know where this is going and I don’t want to accept any help from my parents. I know we’re all coming back together as one picture-perfect family but it’s too soon to let them intrude on our financial situation.” He turns and grabs the shampoo, squirting too much into his hand in the process.

 _I was having a great shower alone. Then a great shower with Rey. Now we’re discussing my parents._ He grimaces.

Rey deflates. “I’m sorry I brought it up now. The timing isn’t right, I’m just excited. I’ll leave you to it, then.” She starts to slip past the shower curtain but Ben catches her arm.

 _She’s just excited. Get over yourself, man._ He faces her quickly.

“Stay. You can soap up my back. I can wash your hair,” he rumbles. She grins.

“But not too long in here. I’m acutely aware of the fact that your parents are in the same house.”

“If we’re considering living with them, we’ll have to get used to that.” Ben squeezes her ribcage and she surges up to him, lips crashing into his.

“Fair enough,” she chuckles.

They only stop kissing when Han yells, “Don’t use all the hot water, you two!”

Rey jerks back. “This is mortifying. I take it back. I don’t want to live here.” Her cheeks are cherry red as she slips out of the shower.

He rues her speedy exit. “Alright. I’ll be out in a minute. And then I demand to hear this plan you all have concocted without me.” He infuses his voice with humor and hurriedly washes off the absurd amount of shampoo currently covering his head.

“Yes, darling. I will lay out the next twenty years that we discussed while you were running.” She laughs mischievously.

“ _Twenty?_ ” Ben turns off the water and hops out of the shower. “I’ve never planned _anything_ that far in advance.”

Something comes over her face, like clouds across the sun. “I couldn’t help it. It’s the first time I’ve actually looked forward to the future in... Well. My thoughts just kept jumping forward and forward.” The clouds break and she smiles. “Your parents weren’t involved that far in the future.” 

Rey is already partially clothed. Ben grabs a clean pair of boxers and stuffs each leg through the holes with little grace. Rey watches him fondly. _Even now, her gaze feels like a privilege._ He looks away to retrieve a fresh pair of jeans and hides his blush in the process. 

“Still, sounds worrisome,” he mumbles. Rey sinks down beside him.

She kneels, placing a hand on his thigh. “If you listen to the ideas and don’t like them, I won’t bring any of it up again. There’s no harm in exploring our options, though, is there? Even if it means learning to have really quiet sex in your parents’ house?” 

Ben huffs a laugh. “I will listen. That’s all I can promise.” He brings his palm to her cheek and she beams into it. _Who am I kidding? I’ll do whatever she thinks is best._

Rey stands, then notices her soggy hair in the mirror. She wrinkles her nose in exasperation and attempts to subdue it with a brush. Her eyebrows come together, lips becoming a concentrated line. Ben slips into a shirt and stands behind her, hands on each shoulder.

The decision to visit his parents for the weekend isn’t one he regrets. To his surprise, it feels comfortable being here, especially with Rey. After several weeks of therapy, they both are sitting with their feelings more directly, instead of walking upon them like broken glass. The air breathes around them more, too, flows and eddies rather than stagnating with grief.

_I know it’s going to be challenging but we’re headed in a good direction. And maybe she’s right. Maybe it’s time we craft a new path._

She ends up putting her hair in a ponytail and shrugs. With a kiss on the hand, Rey meets his eyes. “I love you, Ben Solo. Now come sit with me as your parents try to make up for all the times they’ve failed you.” The words are heavy but her intention isn’t.

Ben sighs. “If you insist.” And though he has a habitual impulse to run out the back door and avoid whatever comes next, he squares his shoulders and follows Rey.

  


* * *

  


“So, let me review what you’re offering: a loan to pay for my school, letting us live here, and getting Rey a job at the old dealership’s garage. Is that all?” Ben’s raised eyebrows nearly meet his hairline.

Han leans forward, elbow on the table. “Yeah, still got some connections. And It’s only until you get back on your feet. No reason to stress about money and the apartment. No reason to work jobs that you don’t like.” 

_He’s really insistent, really wants me to accept. But doesn’t this invite a whole new slew of potential problems?_

Han and Leia keep staring, breath held. The only noise are the scuttlings of the dog. Ben works his jaw, unsure what to say, while Rey watches him. _I really don’t want to disappoint Rey. She clearly also wants this._ Ben buries his face in his hands and exhales sharply.

That’s when Leia speaks up. “I know it’s hard to accept generosity, and what feels like gifts. Consider that you were on your own at sixteen, though, and through the family trust, money for higher education had already been allocated. We never had a chance to give you those funds. This is nothing that wouldn’t have happened if everything hadn’t fallen apart the way it did. And we can afford it. I’m tenured and your father receives retirement. On top of that, we have plenty of savings.” 

His mother sits back, clearly confident in her persuasive abilities. Still, Ben looks blankly at the floor. But the expectant expressions of all three of their faces wear at him gradually until he has no strength to refuse. 

“Better late than never, I guess,” Ben announces darkly.

Han smirks. “Good. You should let your landlord know and move in next weekend.”

Ben can’t help but gape, confusion curdling his thoughts. _Is it possible he’s missed me this much?_

Under this scrutiny, Han clears his throat and looks away. “I’m going to start dinner soon. How about lasagna?” 

Ben doesn’t have any words. Rey jumps in.

“Sounds perfect. Do you need anything from the store? We can make a trip.”

“No, I went yesterday.” Han shrugs. 

“He was rather impatient for your arrival,” Leia teases.

Ben’s not listening. “If we accept this offer, you may never bring up buying us a house again.”

Han raises his hands. “Fair enough.”

Glancing at Rey, Ben shakes his head in defeat. “I guess we’ll move in, then. Though I’m not thrilled about it,” he adds forcefully. Though he doesn’t mean it.

“I am!” Rey declares smugly. 

Han laughs. “You’re such an upbeat person. How you ever fell for this gloomy guy is beyond me.”

“I guess you could say I have a thing for the broody, pensive type.” Rey gives him a teasing grin.

“Haha,” Ben mutters.

Leia places her hands on Rey’s shoulders. “And aren’t I glad for it! Or else you would never have stuck with Ben and brought our family back together.”

Rey falls silent, eyes growing watery and mouth pinched. Ben shoots her a furtive smile and she blinks through her tears.

“Really, Rey. We are grateful to you. More grateful than we can ever express,” Leia emphasizes.

Han gives her a meaningful look and Rey glances to the floor, unable to bear all of their gratitude. Ben’s heart constricts a bit as he watches the exchange. 

Leia clears her throat. “Since I know you’ll be asking about it our rent will be helping around the house. We think this is fair and will not negotiate further.” She looks pointedly at Ben, who immediately swallows whatever words of refusal had begun to form.

She continues to glower at him until he nods.

Han snorts. “Now that we’ve settled that, let’s get cooking.” He stands, rubs his hands together, and heads to the kitchen.

Ben checks the clock. “It’s pretty early, dad. Why are you working on dinner now?”

Han, who looks mock-offended, replies, “The meat takes a while. I don’t want to rush _any_ of the steps. You can join me in the kitchen, maybe learn a thing or two.” He smirks. Ben has to battle his impulse to roll his eyes.

“Before that happens, I’d like to talk with Ben.” Rey glances at Han and Leia. There’s an unspoken communication between them. Ben squirms. 

“Something else you’ve discussed, I gather…?” 

Rey stands and takes his hand to make him stand. Ben doesn’t resist. In her other hand is a mysterious manila envelope. He focuses and belatedly notices that they’re alone in the living room.

“What is this?” Ben shifts the envelope in his hands with narrowed eyes.

“It’s my turn for a surprise, though there is no way to ever top what you did in the park. Open it!”

Tentatively, Ben works the metal clasp, thumbs the flap back, and pulls out the contents. His throat goes dry. He blinks several times and rifles through the stack.

“Adoption agency brochures?”

Her eyes rival a binary star system, bright and earnest. “Yes. Once you’re done with school. I want to expand our family as we’ve always talked about.”

“And you feel ready for that?” It’s an uncomfortable question. He knows the emotional baggage she carries on the subject, that he carries with her.

“With continued support from you, your parents, Maz... yes. I feel like I will be ready to welcome a child who otherwise has no one. I don’t want to focus on tragedy, anymore. I choose happiness. With you.”

Ben’s eyes sting. “Then that’s what we’ll do. We’ll adopt.” Something formerly neglected and scorned surges from his chest, through his throat, and into his head. He staggers with the rush of joy. _Finally. The pieces are coming together. And after everything that has happened, I’m not going to lose Rey._

Briefly, Ben doubts that he will be able to contain all of the rioting glee inside him. _Grateful. I’m so goddamn grateful._ He swoops her up in a fierce hug, inhaling her hair for a suspended moment.

“I’ll take an extra-large courseload, to through school faster,” Ben whispers into the space behind Rey’s ear. She chuckles.

“I concluded you would be doing that anyway. You’re an overachiever, you know.” She leans back to meet his gaze. “And I wouldn’t change it. I wouldn’t change anything about you, Ben. Except...”

Ben sags. “The delayed engagement, I know, I know.” She laughs and presses her lips to his. He falls into the kiss, and all at once, he finds he can’t muster any trace of self-loathing.

  


* * *

  


“I don’t know why we didn’t do this sooner!” Rey chirps from the driver’s seat. She’s leaning forward, nearly hugging the steering wheel. Ben glances at his watch to put his nervous energy somewhere.

“Can’t say a double date has been on my ‘must do’ list but I’m glad you’re into it,” Ben replies stoically. Rey prefers to drive when he navigates, claiming that the phone voice grates on her nerves, how she’s even considered doing the exact opposite just to spite it. _My silly stubborn wife. Radiant and defiant._

Rey glances at him, eyes lit as if she’s a child on her way to the zoo. “I haven’t had friends in a long time. And I can’t imagine any better ones.”

Ben watches her focus on the road again, relishing how her entire being _sings,_ a series of giddy ripples that remind him of a Borealis display. He remembers at the last second to advise a left-hand turn, making her squeak in protest.

“The whole point of a navigator is to get to our destination safely, Benjamin,” Rey scolds genially.

“Apologies, captain. I was a bit distracted with just how beautiful you are...” Ben’s cheeks burn. “Sorry, that’s so cheesy.”

Rey beams. “I love cheese!”

He rests a hand on her thigh as she turns into the restaurant’s parking lot. Taking the keys out of the ignition, Rey whirls to kiss him. “Okay, let’s go eat. I’m ravenous!”

“I don’t know how we’ll ever afford the required grocery bill for paying you and our future children,” Ben remarks as he steps out of the car.

“Children _plural_?” Rey’s eyes are wide with questions.

He splutters, winces, finds some words. “Well, I thought, if we’re going to adopt, why not adopt siblings? It’s rarer for siblings to find a home together and I never had a brother or sister…”

Rey remains immobile, features pale and stretched. Then a smile inches across her face and Ben has to blink through her sheer luminosity. 

The next thing he knows is Rey leaping into his arms. He catches her, legs around his waist, and he marvels briefly that she jumped so high.

“That’s an amazing idea, Ben! I can’t wait. They’ll be so cute together. And hopefully, they’ll be less scared of us since they’ll have each other. And we can give them bunkbeds! Speaking of their room, I want to cover a wall with chalkboard paint so they can color all they want.”

Her fingers are clutching at his scalp, hips wiggling. _I haven’t seen her this ecstatic in so long. I’ve missed this overwhelming enthusiasm._ He chuckles while she continues to rattle off various ideas, still gripping him tightly.

“What is going on here?” someone calls in a theatrically serious tone. Ben jerks his head and spots Poe crossing the parking lot, Finn beside him. 

Rey slides down and bounds over. “We’re going to adopt siblings! Isn’t that wonderful?” 

Their smiles mirror her own.

“That’s incredible news, congratulations!” Finn hugs Rey. “I’m so happy to hear that!”

Ben shakes Poe’s hand, unsure if they’re at the hugging stage yet. Poe accepts the hand and fluidly embraces Ben. _Guess we’re at that stage after all._

“It’s an idea I had and now it’s apparently _the plan._ ” Ben chuckles while Poe slaps a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s an excellent plan. And a very worthy challenge,” Poe commends while hugging Rey. She startles at his words.

“Oh, yes that’s true.” Her mood plummets as if doused in freezing water. Ben knows exactly where her thoughts are going. He steps in front of her, lifting her chin to meet his eyes. 

“Hey, don’t let yourself go down that negative road. We’re here to celebrate with our friends,” he murmurs.

Unsurprisingly, her eyes have a layer of unshed tears. “I know. But it will be really hard. I hadn’t really considered all the challenges.” Rey bites her lip anxiously. “What if we won’t be able to handle it?”

Finn hovers nearby while Poe looks guilty. “I didn’t mean it like that. I think you’ll be amazing parents. It’s admirable and brave and you two are more than up for the task.”

An emphatically nodding Finn seems to have an effect on Rey. She shakes her body and exhales. “Sorry to rollercoaster like this. I’m still processing a lot of insecurities...” She leans against Ben’s chest. He holds her protectively.

“I’m insecure, too. We’re going to do a great job and learn along the way. And I’m going to love every moment of it.” 

He hopes the magnitude of earnestness comes through his tone. She peeks up at him, a small smile tugging at her mouth.

“Okay. You’re right.” She wipes under her eyes and swallows. “Let’s go inside! Can’t stand in the parking lot all night.”

Linking arms with Finn, Rey leads the way into the restaurant.

Poe looks sheepish. “I’m a doofus. I shouldn’t have said that.”

Ben shakes his head as they walk through the entrance doors. “No, it’s all good. Rey and I are working on not avoiding these emotions anymore. We’ve kept them hidden away and it only caused problems.”

“It sounds like you two are working really hard. It’s good to see.”

“I used to think that if people should be together, the relationship should be easy. I looked at my parents and how hard it was for them… My conclusion was they shouldn’t be together. Now I realize, _working_ on the partnership infuses even more meaning. We all make choices; my dad’s been saying a lot. And I find it empowering to keep choosing her.” Ben has stopped walking, lost in thought.

Poe tilts his head. “Can I steal that for my wedding vows?”

Ben huffs out a laugh. “Sure.”

Rey and Finn motion them to a table. “Discussing something private?”

“Yes actually. I’m officially a wedding vow consultant.” Ben kisses Rey’s head and plops into the seat on her right. Poe winks.

“I’m not too proud to borrow some sentiments from a romantic like this guy.”

Ben snorts. “I wouldn’t call myself a _romantic_...”

Rey blinks at him. “Were you present for the whole lights-in-the-park, reviewing our lives together grand gesture, as Poe called it? Because I think most people in the world would classify that as _romantic._ ”

Poe and Finn nod in unison, both with eyebrows raised emphatically. Ben feels his cheeks heat. “Okay, let’s talk about _anything_ else, please.” He flounders for a change of subject. 

Luckily, the waiter arrives. “Good evening. What would everyone like to drink?”

“Let’s have a bottle of champaign,” Poe requests. Everyone darts a look at him and Poe flushes. “Oh right. Sorry. No alcohol…”

“You are welcome to drink,” Rey replies honestly.

“No, we’re in this together. Can we have some sparkling waters?” Ben meets the waiter’s eyes. 

“Of course. I’ll be right back with those and a basket of bread to get you started.” 

Ben nods his appreciation and the man departs.

“Poe, have you found a flying job yet?”

“No. My license lapsed and I still haven’t taken care of it. I’m such a good pilot, I don’t see why I even need to prove it…” Poe drawls. Finn elbows him kindly. “I _suppose_ it’s important to jump through all the legal hoops.”

“Yes, it is. For the sake of everyone!” Finn smiles widely as the waiter appears with a tray of waters and bread. “Mmm, bread! One of the greatest human inventions.”

Rey nods, grabbing a piece at the same time Finn does.

“Finn is working on re-upping _his_ license, so at least one of us will be performing our job’s duties lawfully.” Poe looks proudly at Finn, who uses his shoulder this time to prod him. Then Finn refocuses on the table.

“So you’re going back to school, Ben? Structural engineering, I hear.” He tears into the steaming roll.

Ben snags a piece of bread before everyone devours the whole basket, buttering it diligently. “Yes, I start in the spring. I dropped out of school before and now I’m a ‘non-traditional student,’ so the whole thing is kind of nerve-wracking.” He sips his water.

“He’s going to dominate that program,” Rey states with a full mouth.

Ben chokes. “Her confidence is misplaced. But I’ll do my best. Otherwise taking a loan from my parents will be a catastrophic mistake I’ll never stop berating myself for.”

Rey nudges him with her foot. “He’s going to be a very sexy student, don’t you think? Bookbag, reading glasses, raising his hand to answer questions...”

Ben chokes again. “Okay, new topic please.”

The table bursts into laughter. It takes only a couple of seconds for Ben to join in, despite his embarrassment. 

“Let’s talk about the wedding!” Finn suggests. Poe and Rey nod, ready to dive into each and every detail.

Ben takes another bite of bread. He watches Rey, her cheerfulness palpable and contagious. 

_How did I get so lucky?_

Little does he know, Rey’s thinking the exact same thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: an epilogue! Very much in the future...


	10. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue to catch a fluffy glimpse of our two sweet souls far in the future. 
> 
> I changed the ages of a few characters (because I wanted to, heh). You'll see what I mean :)

Buttery afternoon rays reflect off the rim of Ben’s glasses, drawing Rey’s attention from her tablet. He sits on the oversized chair, head tilted to the side, asleep with a book on his chest. He looks entirely at ease. 

A younger Rey would have leaped toward him, nestling in his lap, unconcerned that the action would wake him up. Now, Rey holds herself back.

_He can’t get through more than a few pages without falling asleep, no matter what time of day it is. Best to let him rest for a few minutes._

In the kitchen, Rey stirs her tea leisurely. She stares through the window onto their modest garden, full of bright perennials. _Vivid like a painting._

They inherited the house after Han died. Leia had decided to move into a smaller apartment, somewhere she could take care of herself (because she refused any help) and avoid having to worry about such a large house. They understood, though would have preferred to have her live with them.

Han’s death had been hard for Ben. And Leia’s… Well, some wounds you carry forever. _It’s scar tissue that one becomes accustomed to but remains a dense, hard, thing._ These are just some of the scars they share.

Rey stands, stretches, and walks to Ben. She tentatively takes the book from his chest and shuts it. Unsurprisingly, it’s a biography of little-known female engineers. Even after several years in retirement and a successful career, he’s often juggling multiple reading materials, and one is always guaranteed to focus on engineering in some manner.

For quite a while she observes his sleeping face. There are several deep lines clustered around his mouth and eyes. She grins. _We’ve spent a good deal of time laughing._ His hair is characteristically voluminous, though the amount of gray and white continues to expand. _He looks so much like his dad._

Rey’s smile is melancholy, but only for a moment. She tugs at Ben’s glasses, tucking the old man frames (as Paige still calls them) on the table near the chair. Then, she retrieves a blanket that Rose gave them as a thirtieth-anniversary present. It’s hand-made, but not by Rose, though she had gone through a handwork phase.

_When was that? When Rose was in her mid-teens? Feels so long ago, and yet I can clearly see her expression that day when the crochet fell apart. Her moment of panic, then her shrug. And how Paige laughed but immediately helped pick up all of the loose thread. There for each other no matter what._

Habitually, Rey glances to the congregation of family photos on the mantle; when Rose first learned how to ride a bike, when Paige got her first _A_ on a test, that time they went on a picnic to their special park with the girls, Han, and Leia, and it ended up pouring. 

Rey misses her children living close, misses hearing their sisterly laughter erupt from down the hall. She longs for when they were still young and finally felt comfortable coming to sleep in the big bed. Their night terrors weren’t easy to overcome, but they got through it as a team. 

There are other photos, too, spanning years of fostering. _Such good, happy times._ Sometimes more than Rey can contain. 

Paige and Rose lost their parents and were in the foster care system for several months before Rey and Ben adopted them. They were bonded, of course, so strongly that Rey feared they’d never open up to the possibility of new parental figures. But Rey and Ben are persistent if nothing else. With their combined determination and extra-gentle patience, Rose and Paige slowly let them in. 

Rey still feels the palpable triumph of that first moment when the girls ran to give her a hug, their little voices muffled by the jeans Rey wore. And her primary thought, floating to the surface with giddy abandon; _Our family. Together at last._

Of course, the enthusiasm of the newly minted grandparents couldn’t be matched. Leia helped them with their homework for hours every week, undoubtedly more than they even needed. And Han would take them on long drives in cars borrowed from his pals, teaching Rose and Paige the ins-and-outs of each one. Both of them took after Rey and Han, in that regard. They took after Ben and Leia, too, intent on finding ways to make the world better, to help people.

Rey finds herself sniffing and wiping her eyes, the memories whipping about.

She never expected to be such a sentimental and nostalgic person. For most of her childhood and early adulthood, there hadn’t been anything to feel nostalgic about. But there are countless components of her life that have surprised her, including the way that her love for Ben has deepened with age and time. It creates its own shimmering, solid strength that has been her most treasured consistency. 

_Steadfast. That’s my Ben._

Rey sighs, knees bending to find the couch. She’s sore most of the time at this age. All those years crouching, hunching, kneeling, and crawling in the garage took a toll on her body. Though it had been physically demanding, she loved working on thousands of cars over decades. 

Eventually, she’d left the high-end dealership to open her own maintenance shop, where she could charge less and work on a wider variety of vehicles. Han might have been dejected about it for a little while since he had gotten her that original job, but he came around, even sometimes showing up at the garage to help. He’d told her how happy she looked and how proud he was that she’d found her own path. Rey blinks away a slow-rolling tear, swallowing fiercely.

 _I wouldn’t change any of it._

Her quiet breakdown makes Ben twitch awake. He blinks sleepily.

“Mmm… what time is it?” He straightens in the chair, wincing from a crick in his neck. “You shouldn’t let me sleep like this.” He gives her a look of admonishment and endearment. Rey shrugs.

“After four. I couldn’t disturb you. Would you like some tea?”

Ben grunts his response, fumbling for his glasses. He delicately removes and folds the precious blanket from Rose. “We need to get a dog. We haven’t had one since Artoo passed away.” His voice sounds thick with sleep.

“Did you dream about dogs, then?” Rey calls from the kitchen. She reappears with a couple of mugs full of orange ginger tea. Ben nods his appreciation, drinking deeply. They sink onto the couch in unison.

“Maybe. It was strange... like I expected to hear little footsteps down the hallway when I woke up.” Ben tilts his head and swings an arm around Rey’s shoulders. “Thanks for the tea. I forgot to tell you I received a video from Finn and Poe. They are enjoying their trip through Italy immensely.”

“I’m glad to hear that. We need to take a trip, don’t you think?”

“Mmm. Maybe something close by, like renting a cabin at the lake.”

“That sounds perfect.”

Ben stays silent for a few seconds, then ripples with energy, having woken up entirely. “Would you like to take a walk this afternoon?”

“Sure. But first, I’m expecting a call from Jannah.”

Ben’s face breaks into a grin. “How is she? I thought about when we told her that she was going to be adopted by some incredible people just the other day. I’ve never seen one person contain that much joy and sadness all at once.” Ben’s gaze grows distant and soft.

“Yes, that was a beautiful moment. Today, she messaged about ‘news,’ so I’m imagining she and Kay are engaged or she got that promotion that is well deserved. At least, these are what I’m hoping for. It could also be that she’s moving to South America to save the rainforest.”

Ben snorts a laugh and beams proudly.

“I’m deeply relieved she’s kept in touch. I miss all the kids who have come through our home. And the few that don’t reach out stick in my mind like a forest of splinters.” Rey deflates morosely.

“I know it’s hard to accept that not _everyong_ likes you, sweetheart. But I like you enough to more than make up for it, don’t you think? Even after nearly forty years?” Ben presses his lips to her forehead. She briefly wonders how many thousands of forehead kisses she has received from this man. Each time she feels herself fall into him, water pooling in the crevice of a rock.

She closes her eyes. “We did our best, which is what he set out to accomplish. I treasure even the hard parts.”

“Agreed. All of it was worth it because you were at my side.”

Ben doesn’t get embarrassed like he used to. _Thank goodness he’s accepted his tendency to be cheesy. And his genuine, forthright declarations are one of my favorite things._ Rey gives him a tender smile. Then she has an idea.

“Ben, would you handle dinner tonight? I was thinking you could make your famous panzerotti. It was the girls’ favorite, too.”

Ben smiles and brings an arm to rest on her shoulders. Pressing close, his hair tickles her cheek. He settles a kiss on her temple. 

Rey has shrunk slightly with age. Ben, hardly at all. She fits beside him better than ever.

“Of course, my love. We should take a picture of the dinner, send it to Rose and Paige. That’ll convince them to come visit.” He chuckles and the aged timbre of his voice sends a lazy shiver down her spine.

“What an excellent idea for manipulating our children,” Rey laughs. She leans over and touches her nose to his, content to feel his warmth reverberate in her weary bones. “I love you like all the grapefruit spoons,” she whispers.

“I love you like all the good bits, and everything else,” Ben murmurs back. Their lips connect and Rey blends into him effortlessly, pieces assembling just as they should. 

Their tea grows cold but neither of them cares in the least.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I truly appreciate all the support for this story. I have found it challenging to write. Every kudo, comment, and bookmark have gotten me through it. It's nerve-wracking to send these AU versions of Rey and Ben out into the world and hope they are loved, as I love them.
> 
> So thank you. I wish I could hug each and every one of you.

**Author's Note:**

> ✨Thank you for reading ✨ 
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://briaeveridian.tumblr.com/) where my SW obsession lives aggressively.


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